


Gunmetal Blue

by Mooifyourecows



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anxiety, Bokuto is a walking disaster, But Akaashi might need more caring for in the end, Fluff and Humor, Future pairings will pop up, Injury, M/M, Recovery, Slow Burn, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, and probably more characters too, but oh well, i never pretended to be responsible, i'm a huge big dumb idiot for starting another multichapter slow burn fic, tense family relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-08
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2018-12-12 13:54:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 39,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11738445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mooifyourecows/pseuds/Mooifyourecows
Summary: "That reminds me of a story..."--Keiji Akaashi doesn't realize how much he needs Koutarou Bokuto until he's crashing into his life wearing a grin and missing an eye, telling stories that no one asked to hear.Koutarou Bokuto doesn't realize how much he needs Keiji Akaashi until he sticks around when no one else even shows up.





	1. Ready

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something Lost  
> Something Gained

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Pups to Dust](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UYo7jLbxYec)  
>  "Give it away, take what you need.  
> Love does not cost money, but it ain't free."

It wasn't that Keiji was anti-social.

It wasn’t that he was fearful or timid either.

In fact, he thought of himself as more socially adept than most people he was given the pleasure of serving at the boat check station at which he worked three times a week in the scorching hot summer weather along the side of the surprisingly barren desert highway. After all, he was perfectly capable of holding a smile he certainly didn’t mean while owners of boats complained with various degrees of impatience and annoyance as he partook in the usual routine examination of the underbelly of their vessels.

He was experienced in holding that smile and even delivering a gentle explanation of the law and his government assigned duties whenever they crossed their arms irritably over their chests and muttered,

“I only just bought her. Hasn’t even touched the water yet.”

“If a certain mussel were to be accidentally brought into the state water, countless marine life could be exterminated,” he could deliver the practiced line without even considering his words, and without even giving the boat owners the chance to wedge in another complaint. “It’s the law,” he could say with an amiable smile as he probed the hull, leaving no room for argument.

He could do his job smoothly in a timely manner without ever issuing a fight.

It wasn't that Keiji was anti-social, or fearful, or timid.

It was just that Keiji wanted to be alone.

He preferred safety and comfort to a life of reckless socializing. In his apartment, cuddled in bed with a book or the TV remote, he didn’t face the possibility of humiliation or rejection. His blankets and pillows would never reject him. Nor would his usual chicken flavored cup ramen and room temperature canned espresso.

It’s not that Keiji hated being around people, but in a situation where his choices consisted of socializing with his peers or vegetating through an eight hour long marathon on the television, his decision was more than obvious.

“Hey Keiji, I’m gonna run to the gas station for some more drinks, will you be okay by yourself?” Akinori, Keiji’s only other coworker in the stuffy trailer off the side of Highway Desolation, paused at the door and gave him a questioning stare.

“Uh,” he lifted the can resting on the counter next to where he sat. He shook it gently to register just how empty it was before answering, “Could you get me another one of these?”

Akinori made a face, curling the corner of his lips up in a grimace, “Another? Isn’t that your third for the day? How do you sleep at night?”

“I manage,” he said, tossing the espresso can into the trash nestled in the corner of the trailer. “Thanks, I’ll pay you back.”

He rolled his eyes and popped the door open, “No need. I think I can spare the dollar without breaking my bank.” He stepped down from the trailer, causing the vehicle to sway gently as his weight vacated. “I’ll be back in twenty. Don’t let the place burn down while I’m gone.”

The door closed behind him and Keiji stretched his arms over his head.

It was for moments like this that he lived. Only when the world went still and silent and all breathing other than his own ceased to exist did he really feel like his heartbeat made any sound. He stood and moved around the trailer. Not for any purpose other than to release the restlessness of his legs and arms, which were more or less forcibly contained while in the company of others. A defense mechanism, he supposed, to keep from drawing too much unnecessary attention to himself.

Once he had completed his rounds of the trailer, he nudged the door open and climbed into the sun like a bear after winter hibernation. He would check up on the equipment now while he was alone to eliminate the possibility that Akinori would want them to do it together as a team after he came back. Something he was notorious for doing.

“Four hands are better than two,” he liked to say as they worked.

It was true, the job went by faster when two people were doing it, but if Keiji  _could_ avoid his good natured babble, then by any means he would. It was easier in the trailer to skip out on any light small talk he wanted to initiate. Whenever Keiji had a book open in front of his nose, Akinori understood that communication was reserved for emergencies or subjects relating to the job.

This system worked.

Keiji was able to the keep the minimum level of socializing and Akinori got to skip out on routinely inspecting the equipment.

“Propane is running a little low,” Keiji said softly to himself as he finished his inspection and headed back towards the trailer. “I’ll have to call the boss for a refill before Wednesday…” He was just opening the door when he noticed the figure lumbering up the side of the highway in his direction.

He almost missed him. The sun was scorching and bright at the highest point in the sky, turning the desert a dull yellow and distorting his vision along the rippling highway heat.

The man was far enough away that he couldn’t make out his face and Keiji was immediately on his guard. A strange man walking along the side of the highway at the hottest part of the day? Was he suicidal? Or maybe his car broke down somewhere down the road?

“Probably just some serial killer,” he muttered and dashed into the trailer to grab his pocket knife from the table. He clipped it to his belt and exited the trailer once more. He walked swiftly in the man’s direction, pushing down his fear. Akinori should be on his way back to the station by now. He just needed to not get brutally murdered until then.

As he drew closer, the man’s shape slowly distinguished itself among the sun’s merciless illusion.

 _Serial killer or not a serial killer?_  Keiji wondered, keeping the suspicion from his stoic face.

“Hey, hey, heeeeeeey,” the man called when they neared. He waved a hand over his head and sped up slightly. “So there _is_ someone working today!”

He didn’t _sound_ like a serial killer. His voice was too light and cheerful. Loud and unconstrained with a generous amount of inflection.

“Do you need some help?” Keiji said. “Did your car break down or…” his voice dwindled away when he was finally able to make out the man’s face. His feet planted themselves in the gravel of the highway’s shoulder as he froze.

“ _Ha ha_! Well I probably need some help, that’s for sure,” he slowed, scratching the back of his head. “I think I need to go to the hospital.”

_Serial killer or not a serial killer?_

Keiji was having a hard time deciding. After all, it wasn’t really a normal thing to run into a man on the side of the highway with blood gushing down his face from his left eye socket.

“ _Are you okay?_ ” Keiji’s mouth dried up and he took a step back. “What happened… happened to your eye?”

“Hm…” he dropped his arm to his side once more. “Well I’m sure it’d make a really good story, if I didn’t manage to forget it.” He grinned wide and shot him a peace sign, propping his other hand up on his waist, “How’s this? I promise I’ll tell you all about it as soon as I remember!”

“Oh my god…” Keiji grabbed his hand and rushed him towards the trailer. “C’mon, let’s get you to the hospital. Are you okay? Do you feel lightheaded at all? Do you remember your name at least?”

“Sure. It’s Koutarou. Koutarou Bokuto. I don’t feel too bad. I mean, yeah the eye thing is pretty shitty. I don’t know if it’s even still in there. Would ya mind checking for me?”

“I’d rather not,” Keiji’s stomach turned just from the thought of taking a look into that definitely mutilated and potentially empty socket.

“What’s your name?”

“Akaashi,” he dragged him to the trailer and threw the door open wide. “Wait here, I’ll get you some water and towels.”

He ignored his command and followed him into the trailer.

“'Kaashi, so you work at this station? What do you even do here?” he glanced around at the inside of the trailer.

“I’ll have to leave a note for my coworker,” he said, uncapping a marker and scribbling a quick explanation for Akinori on a notepad.

_Went to hospital._

_Will call later._

_Sorry, Keiji._

He tossed the marker onto the table and went to the small fridge. He pulled three bottles of chilled water out from inside and passed one over to Koutarou.

“Hm, thanks,” he twisted off the lid, leaning his shoulder on the wall of the trailer. Keiji did a once over of the trailer to be sure he wasn't forgetting anything important and then turned towards the door.

“C’mon, let’s hurry,” he said, ushering him back outside.

Koutarou leisurely upturned the water bottle over his head, rinsing the blood from his face. The bloody water dribbled down his neck and wetted his already bloodstained tan t-shirt.

“Ah, that feels nice,” he said, giving his head a shake, shedding water droplets.

Keiji closed the trailer and led the way across the small lot to the green pickup parked off to the side.

“Do you get bored out here?” Koutarou asked, sucking on the mouth of the half empty water bottle. “Not much traffic comes by, right?”

Keiji opened the passenger door of the truck and shoved him inside before slamming it shut and running around the hood to the driver’s side. Once inside, he buckled in and turned the key already in the ignition.

“You’re checking for that uh… zebra barnacle, right?” Koutarou continued. “I heard there’s only like five states left that don’t have it, or something.”

Keiji whipped the truck out onto the highway and sped towards the city.

“You don’t talk much, do you?”

“You talk too damn much, if you ask me,” Keiji said. “How can you be this calm? Look at me,” he held a hand up. “I’m shaking and I’m not the one with the hole in my face.”

“It’s not so bad,” he said, leaning his elbow on the door. “Hey, hey, hey, did you see that cool bird just now? What was that? Like a falcon or something? Oh! That reminds me of a story. One time when I was camping there was this huge falcon, right?” Koutarou laughed, “It was huge, I swear. Maybe it was actually an eagle or something. But anyway, so I was just chillin’ with my pal next to the river fishing. And then, and I’m not kidding, this huge ass eagle thing just fuckin’ straight up dive bombs into the river.”

Keiji couldn’t keep up. Why was he suddenly talking about birds? Was it a bird that pecked his eye out?

“It was crazy, seriously. And then, it didn’t come back up. So naturally, I thought it was committing suicide or something. So I waded through the river looking for it,” Koutarou nodded seriously. “Then, all of the sudden the freaking thing jumps out of the water and attacks me, can you believe that? I was like, _whoooaaaa!_ And my friend was screaming because the thing was huge, let me tell ya, like fuckin’ _massive_.” He laughed again, “But it was all good. Because I was like, _TETSUROU! THROW IT THE FISH WE JUST CAUGHT!_ And my friend, he’s Tetsurou, he started chucking these fish that we had spent the entire morning catching at this fuckin’ bird and I swear,” he shook his head, right eye closed. “I swear it was like twenty of them. Though probably not. Maybe ten or eight or something. But anyway, this bird like totally freaks out, but at the same time it was like, sweet damn. Because fish, you know?” he glanced over at Keiji. “And eagles eat fish, right? So it grabbed two of the fish in its talons and just took off. I don’t know how it was still able to fly after being in the water for like a whole minute, but it was crazy. Just took right off. Isn’t that some crazy shit?”

“I don’t understand why you are telling me this,” he said.

“Just a crazy story I remembered just now,” he shrugged and leaned back on the seat. “This truck belong to you?”

“Yeah…”

“Cool. Do you like driving trucks? My mom will only drive something tall. She thinks it makes her more powerful or whatever. But I kinda like smaller cars, ya know? Probably because I like to feel close to the ground. The vibrations make you feel like you’re going really fast.”

Keiji stared straight forward, perplexed and frustrated.

“Oh hey I think I remember something about last night!” Koutarou said. He held up his hands, squeezed them into fists for a moment, then relaxed. “No, wait. I mean, I do. But it’s not all that important. Well, it’s because I wanted to try one of those drink and paint party things, you know? The ones where everyone paints the same thing but you are all drinking wine and hanging out.”

“Yeah…”

“It was pretty fun. There was only middle aged ladies there but they were pretty cool. One lady said she liked my hair and offered to bleach and dye it white. Do you think it’d look good?”

“Huh?”

“My hair. White. What do you think?”

“Uh…” he glanced at his hair. It was messy and black, hanging limply over his forehead, water droplets still dripping from a few locks. “Uhm, sure. I guess?”

“I have a buddy that always dyes his hair all crazy. Like green and blue and shit. I think it looks pretty cool but I don’t have the patience to sit through all that bleaching and what not.”

“Are you in shock?” Keiji asked.

“Huh?”

“Shock. I hear when people go into shock they kind of ramble and act strangely. Is that what’s happening?”

“Uhm… I don’t know. But probably not? I mean, unless I’m just always in shock. This is kind of just my personality?” He reached up and rubbed his bloody eye before remembering his injury. “Ahhhh!” he cried out, clutching at the wound with both hands. “Fuck! That fuckin’ hurt!”

“Don’t touch it!” Keiji looked back and forth between him and the road. “Are you okay? Fuck… fuck… I should have just called an ambulance…”

Koutarou laughed and slumped back on the seat, “Oh man that hurt. I’m so dumb. But on the other hand, I think my eye is still in there. Felt like there was something.”

Keiji groaned.

“Maybe it’s not an eye. Maybe while I was sleeping, an animal crawled inside and is making a nest in—”

“Please stop,” Keiji begged.

“Sorry, sorry. It’s probably my eye. I think I would’ve noticed if it was an animal. Or maybe just a really big bug? Aren’t there some beetles that do that? Like burrow into animals and lay eggs—”

“I’m going to throw up if you keep talking.”

“Sorry! Hey ‘Kaashi, can I have another one of these waters?”

“Yes, have all you need. Drink it all. You’re probably anemic and dehydrated…”

“Oh that reminds me of another story,” Koutarou lifted one of the water bottles and opened it. “So one time me and my buddy decided to try this weird soup that was supposedly made out of reindeer blood. Yeah. Reindeer blood. Like… Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer blood. Anyway,” he gulped from the bottle. “We were at this shady little restaurant that was like… ehh… I dunno. Something Scandinavian or whatever. And we order the blood soup and—”

“Can you talk about something that doesn’t involve blood?” Keiji asked wearily.

“Ehh? But it’s a good story,” he paused, staring straight ahead. “Ah… actually, now that I think about it, it’s kind of gross. Okay. Instead, there was this time when I was at this festival in Italy, right? And there’s this _streaker_ that shows up and he fuckin’ runs by me, screaming at people to suck his spaghetti and meatballs, which you know… is that considered racist? I was thinkin’ about it and it seems kind of racist. Or maybe not racist but like… culturally insensitive? Or can you say that spaghetti and meatball jokes are even _cultural_?” Koutarou leaned his head back on the seat and stared at the ceiling of the truck. “Now that I think about, I guess it’s kind of culturally insensitive that I barfed all that blood soup onto the floor of that little Scandinavian restaurant.”

Keiji groaned.

For the rest of the drive to the hospital, Koutarou continued to ramble cheerfully, barely pausing to breathe and drink water and give Keiji a moment to recover from the incessant babble. When they finally reached the hospital, Koutarou ooo-ed and ahhh-ed.

“This is a big hospital! Almost as big as the one I went to when I got that tooth brush lodged up my ass! Ah… _long story_ ,” he turned to Keiji and held up a hand. “Sorry, I’ll have to tell that one to you a different time.”

“Or never,” Keiji grumbled as he pulled into a parking space and cut the engine. “Never works too.”

They climbed out of the truck and Keiji rushed to Koutarou’s side, floundering momentarily as he tried to decide if he should take his arm or just let him walk on his own. Koutarou decided for him by immediately wandering off in the direction of a rose garden on the side of the building.

“No, we don’t have time for that,” Keiji grabbed Koutarou’s elbow and dragged him towards the emergency room.

“Oh, alright. Well, maybe later then,” Koutarou followed him. “Hey, ‘Kaashi, do you have a favorite flower? My favorite are dahlias. I like the ones that have two colors, especially the dark ones. Like purple or blue. When I was a kid, my mom grew these super pretty dahlias and I’ve never once seen another that was the same color.”

Keiji pulled Koutarou through the doors of the emergency room and headed for a counter behind which a nurse sat, eyes on the screen of a computer. Her gaze flicked towards them at their approach and she leapt to her feet and grabbed a phone, speaking into it hurriedly.

“Bokuto,” Keiji said. “Do you have someone that I should call?”

“What for?”

“So that they know what happened?” Keiji glanced up at him. He regarded him curiously with his lone golden eye. “Your parents or… a friend? Someone that can come pick you up and take care of you—”

“Oh, well I doubt I need that,” he shrugged. “It’s not a big deal.”

“It is!”

“I’ll just take care of myself!” Koutarou grinned.

The nurse rounded the counter and rushed up to them.

Keiji pursed his lips, “But…”

Koutarou hummed and reached into the back pocket of his jeans. He pulled out a smart phone and offered it to Keiji, who took it slowly.

“You can call anyone in there,” he said. “I guess. But it’s not that big of a deal, so I doubt anyone will come.”

“Why wouldn’t—”

The nurse took Koutarou’s arm and started leading him away. Koutarou smiled wide at Keiji and waved.

“Don’t worry about it! Thank you for all of your help, ‘Kaashi! You can leave that phone at the counter and I’ll pick it up later! Thanks again!” he turned towards the nurse. “So what’s the damage, Milady?”

“You’re definitely going to need surgery for that, young man,” the nurse quipped.

“Ehh… alright. But lay off the anesthetic. That stuff makes me loopy.”

They disappeared through wide double doors, leaving Keiji staring after them in the middle of the lobby. He gulped and looked down at the phone in his hand.

Now what?

Should he try to call someone?

Koutarou had acted like it was unnecessary but…

Keiji walked over to the waiting area of the lobby and sat down. He fiddled with the phone until the screen lit up on the time and a photo of a two eyed, grinning Koutarou sitting in the middle of a crowd of middle aged women, all holding up a wine glass and their own painting of an owl on a branch in front of a colorful sunset.

Keiji swiped the screen and went to his contacts. He scrolled through the names until he found one that read, “ _Mommy!!!!!_ o(≧▽≦)o” He tapped it, inhaled deeply, and then pressed the phone to his ear.

After a couple of rings, a woman answered,

_“Hey, hey, hey, Kou. What’s up, Sweetie?”_

Keiji cleared his throat, “Excuse me, Ma’am. I’m not Bo- Koutarou.”

_“Hm? Who’s this? Did Kou lose his phone again? Just ship it to the address in my contact information—”_

“No…” Keiji interrupted. “My name is Keiji Akaashi. I’m at the hospital with your son—”

_“Is it life threatening?”_

Keiji blinked.

“I don’t think so… it’s just his eye—”

_“Alright. So what’s the problem then? Is his insurance card not working? It should be all up to date.”_

Keiji furrowed his brows and leaned back in the chair. “I’m not calling because of anything like that… I just thought that you would like to come and wait for him… he’s going into surgery—”

_“Ah. Well, I’m kind of busy at the moment. Not to mention I’m in South Korea.”_

Keiji blinked, “South Korea?”

_“Hmhm. It’s where I live after all. So unless his injury is life threatening, I’m afraid I can’t just pack up and fly over there.”_

“Oh… I see. Then is there someone nearby that I could call?”

_“Depends. What country are you in?”_

For a moment, Keiji didn’t reply.

It seemed like such a strange question to ask.

What mother didn’t know in which country her own son was living?

It was a strange question to ask, wasn’t it?

“Uh… the United States…”

_“Oh really? East? West?”_

“West…”

 _“Good choice. Well. I think Testurou is in the US at the moment… but he’s probably down south. You could give him a call if you’d like anyway though. His name is Tetsurou Kuroo. He’s probably in Kou’s phone under the name,_ Tetsubro _or_ Testicle _. Don’t ask me why.”_

“Ah… okay…”

 _“It was nice talking with you… Keiji, was it? Tell my son to stop causing trouble for others, would you?”_  She chuckled.

“Yes… thank you,” Keiji ended the phone call and sat quietly for a long minute.

What a strange woman.

Not that he should be all that surprised, considering who her son was.

He scrolled through the contacts until he found the name, _Tetsuhoe_ with a cat emoji beside it, and called it.

 _“Brooooooo!”_ a low voice answered. “ _I was just thinkin’ of you. And before you ask, no I wasn’t jackin’ off. I saw a pretty girl with the same exact hair as that bitch Tina that called you ugly in junior high. I still think I should have punched her stupid face for that. No one disses my handsome bro.”_

“Uh… hello. This isn’t Koutarou…”

“ _Eh? Did Bo lose his phone again? Just send it to the address in his mom’s_ —”

“No, I’m at the hospital. Koutarou is going into surgery.”

_“Is it life threatening?”_

“… no.”

_“So then what’s the problem?”_

Keiji lowered the phone momentarily as he attempted to smooth his ruffled feathers over such a lax reaction to hearing his _bro_ was going into surgery.

_What is WITH these people?_

He brought the phone back to his ear, “I just met Koutarou today. I thought he might want someone to be here to take care of him after surgery—”

_“Meh… Bo can take care of himself.”_

“You don’t care that he is injured?” Keiji snapped, his careful control over his emotions slipping. “Aren’t you friends?”

The voice on the other line chuckled. _“You were obviously telling the truth when you said you just met him.”_

Keiji’s nose scrunched, “What do you mean by that?”

_“Listen… this isn’t anything new. Bo spends more time in the hospital than a doctor. He’s a pro at it at this point. Don’t worry about him.”_

“He’s probably going to lose his eye!”

_“Oya? He’s gonna look dashing in an eye patch, if I do say so myself.”_

Keiji clicked his tongue.

“So you don’t care.”

A heavy sigh traveled through the phone, _“I care. But I’m in Florida right now. You want me to hop on a plane and fly to Scotland just so I can be there in the waiting room when he gets out of surgery? That’s not realistic.”_

“We’re not in Scotland. We’re in the States.”

 _“Eh? He was just in Scotland last weekend though…”_ he hummed. _“I can’t believe he didn’t tell me he was coming to America. What a douche.”_

Keiji sat up and let out an exasperated breath. “Even though you’re in the same country, you still won’t come?”

_“Sorry, Pal. I’m going to a Britney Spears concert tonight. No way I’m missing that for eye surgery.”_

Keiji clicked his tongue again, louder this time, “Fine. Thank you for nothing.” He ended the call and then sifted through the contacts. There had to be _someone_ that would come.

Someone _had_ to care.

For the next ten minutes, Keiji called number after number, receiving the same weak responses from each and every person that answered.

_Is it life threatening?_

_I’m in a different country._

_He can take care of himself._

_This happens all the time._

_Don’t worry about him._

How did no one care?

How did not a single person even sound _remotely_ concerned when Keiji told them Koutarou was in the hospital?

_He’s a pro at this._

“Bullshit,” Keiji muttered as he scrolled angrily through the names. Eventually he paused on one name that lacked the decoration of a witty nickname, emojis, or multiple exclamation marks that every other name had had in one way or another.

_Masanori._

Keiji stared at it for a few seconds.

Something about the way it was typed so matter-of-factly into the phone of a man who still called his mother _Mommy!!!!!_ o(≧▽≦)o felt oddly… wrong. Keiji hadn’t known Koutarou for more than an hour, and the time he _had_ spent with him flew by in what felt like seconds, with the injured man rambling at a million miles per second.

But even Keiji could tell that this person, this mere, undecorated name, was someone with whom he shouldn’t dabble.

He shouldn’t dabble with him.

But he was Keiji’s last resort.

So, ignoring the uneasy feeling in his gut, Keiji tapped the name and slowly lifted the phone to his ear.

The line buzzed and buzzed and Keiji silently hoped that it wouldn’t be answered so that he could skip out on the responsibility of waking whatever beast this _Masanori_ represented. But on what had to be one of the final rings, the line clicked and a deep voice growled,

“ _Koutarou_.”

Keiji sucked in a deep breath, instantly regretting his meddling.

“ _Where the fuck are you?_ ”

Keiji gulped and opened his mouth to reply.

_“If you don’t answer me in the next five seconds Koutarou—”_

“Sorry,” Keiji rushed. “This isn’t Koutarou.”

The line went silent for a few seconds before the voice demanded, “ _Who are you and where the fuck is my son?_ ”

_Son._

Keiji’s heart fluttered and he stuttered out a quick, “S-sorry. I didn’t mean to call you. Terribly sorry.”

“ _No, wait. Tell me where my son is—_ ”

Keiji hung up. He held the phone in his lap, staring at the screen as a few seconds later, Masanori called back. He ignored the call and hurriedly powered the phone down.

Now what was he supposed to do?

Koutarou had told him to leave the phone with the nurse.

That meant that he didn’t expect Keiji to stay.

But… could he really just leave him alone? It was obvious that he wasn’t familiar with this city. He didn’t have a car or a single connection on which he could rely. He said he could take care of himself but how did he expect to do such a thing when he couldn’t even remember how he had lost his own goddamn eye?

It was clear that Koutarou Bokuto needed someone to take care of him.

And unfortunately, Keiji was the only one around suited for the job.

He lifted his gaze to the nurse, sitting behind the counter once more, typing at the computer.

He sucked in a deep breath, cheeks puffing out, and then released it. He slid Koutarou’s phone into his pocket and walked up to the counter.

“Excuse me,” he said softly. “I came in with Koutarou Bokuto… is there any information you can give me? How long his surgery will last? When he will be ready to be released?”

The nurse eyed him. “Are you his family?”

“No… his family couldn’t come. I’m all he has at the moment, unfortunately.”

She hummed, gaze dipping back to the computer. “It depends on what the ophthalmologist decides. I didn’t get a good look at it but I’m guessing he’ll need it removed by enucleation. I really can’t give you a clear answer on how long it will take… but no less than a few hours, depending on how bad it is, if there's debris in the socket, infection, stuff like that.” She leaned her elbow on the desk in front of her. “Would you like me to take you to the waiting room closest to where his surgery will take place?”

Keiji looked over his shoulder, casting a longing glance at the doors to the outside world.

He could leave.

He could hand Koutarou’s cell phone over to the nurse, bid her farewell, and go home early, curl up in his blankets on the couch with the AC blasting as he watched hours and hours of television before falling asleep in a pile of candy wrappers and popcorn.

Keiji inhaled deeply and turned back to the nurse.

“Yes please.”

* * *

 

“Follow me, Koutarou. Your friend is waiting for you,” the nurse offered her arm to Koutarou and he took it sleepily.

“Jerks,” he mumbled. “I said skip the anesthetic. My tongue feels like it weighs a thousand pounds…”

“You can’t have surgery without anesthetic, are you crazy?”

“Friend?” Koutarou furrowed his brows and then smoothed them out when his eye- or what used to be his eye hiding beneath the pressure bandage- ached. “Who? Testicle?”

“What? You know… the handsome man you came in with.”

Koutarou hummed. “That reminds me of a story. One time I was in the Caribbean and there was this wet t-shirt competition going on, right? And like, it was all girls competing, but there was no rule that said men couldn’t join, so I fuckin’ jumped into the water and got all drenched and waltzed up on the stage and wouldn’t ya know it? I won. Probably because everyone was drunk and the crowd was like seventy percent female so—”

The nurse opened the door at the end of the hallway for him and he stepped into the waiting room, eye instantly falling on the curled form of Keiji in a chair in the far corner. He sat sideways in the chair, legs hanging over the arm rest, back leaning up against the other. His head lolled against the back of the seat, arms folded across his chest.

“He’s been here the whole time,” the nurse said softly. “That’s a really good friend you have there.”

Koutarou blinked slowly, staring silently at Keiji’s sleeping form.

“Why… is he here?” he asked.

The nurse glanced at him. “Why?”

“No one’s ever…” he dwindled out.

Koutarou’s chest itched, a foggy warmth roiling beneath the surface. He reached up and rubbed restlessly at the spot, swallowing against the cotton dryness of his mouth.

He told them he didn’t want the damn anesthetic.

“You alright, Sweetie?” The nurse touched his arm.

“Y-Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “Kinda lethargic, I guess.”

“That’s expected,” she said. “Now, you got your appointment reminder?”

“Hmm…” Koutarou lifted the papers the doctor had given him. “Yep.”

“Good. You’re free to go then. Make sure you rest up and don’t touch that socket!”

“Yes, Milady.” Koutarou saluted and she chuckled and left him there.

Koutarou turned back to Keiji, hesitating for another moment before walking slowly in his direction. He slid into the chair next to his and let out a deep breath. He eyed the back of his head, the messy black hair and pale nape of his neck where it disappeared into the wrinkled collar of his t-shirt.

His chest itched again and he swallowed before reaching out and tapping the top of his head.

Keiji stirred and then slowly roused, reaching up to rub at his eyes. He sat up slowly and turned in Koutarou’s direction, blinking sleepily.

“Oh,” he murmured and yawned, covering his mouth. “You’re done. How do you feel?”

Koutarou’s cheeks flushed hot with color and he gulped for what felt like the tenth time. “Really fuckin’ thirsty, honestly.”

Keiji hummed, clasping his hands in his lap. “Well… would you like to stop for food on the way back?”

“Back?”

“To your home? I’ll give you a ride.”

Koutarou leaned back in the chair and stared off across the waiting room. “Oh.”

“Where is that, by the way?”

“I’m staying in a motel downtown—”

“Alright you’re coming home with me.”

Koutarou turned back to him, eyebrows lifting on his forehead, “I am?”

“My conscience won’t let me allow you to stay in a motel like that.” Keiji stood and stretched his arms over his head. He turned back to Koutarou and offered his hand. “Are you ready?”

Koutarou stared up into his eyes quietly for a long second.

Those eyes reminded him of a story.

A story about a mother’s summer science experiment and a lone dahlia growing in the backyard of his childhood home with petals of the most radiant shade of gunmetal blue that Koutarou had ever seen.

The perfect shade of gunmetal blue that he had never seen since.

Until now.

He reached out and clasped Keiji's hand.

"Ready."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, my name is Moo and not for the first time in my life, I've bitten off more than I can chew.
> 
> Oh my God I started another slow burn multi-chapter fic I'm so so so so so so so so stupid.  
> But like................  
> I wanted to try writing a BokuAka?  
> And... so... I did.
> 
> Don't expect this to be a weekly thing.  
> 'Cause it ain't happenin'.  
> But uhm...  
> I'll do my best?
> 
> I decided to base this in America because I'm sick of doing tedious research about Japan. So I'm putting them in a place I know all about.  
> Welcome to the states, Boys.
> 
> If you want to come yell at me for adding more to my plate of fics, see me at [Tumblr.](http://mooifyourecows.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Next Time:  
> "Since when are you friends with a pirate?"


	2. Harmless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keiji doesn't know what to believe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mood:  
> [Hot Blur](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XdqLJMmEny4)  
> "And I have to ask, what you want from me.  
> Because I want to be, by myself.  
> You're a hot blur, I can barely see.  
> I'm a hot mess, just as well."

Was Keiji insane?

He had just met a mysterious and _clearly_ mentally unstable man on the side of the highway and he had offered to let him stay in his apartment with him?

 _I’m going to get stabbed and robbed in the middle of the night,_  Keiji chewed on his thumbnail as he sat behind the wheel of his truck, staring at the grimy motel across the street. He had brought Koutarou back to the motel to collect his belongings but now that the man was out of his sight, he finally had the opportunity and calm frame of mind to actually think about how incredibly stupid and irresponsible he was being.

_Stay with me?_

_Stay with me?_

_I’m insane._

He didn’t know the first thing about Koutarou Bokuto other than the fact he was bat shit crazy, his family and friends didn’t care about his well-being, and he was full of more stories than a library.

And he was probably going to carve his eye out when he was sleeping and have it transplanted into his empty socket.

Keiji tapped the steering wheel, glancing over his shoulder at the street behind his vehicle.

He could just leave. He could drive away and never see Koutarou Bokuto again.

But Keiji still had his cell phone in his pocket.

And… he hadn’t seemed like the type to carve anybody’s eye out while they were sleeping. In the short amount of time that Keiji had known him he had seemed… sincere.

And there was no one else, was there?

No one to take care of him.

The longer he waited for Koutarou to appear again, the narrower his window for escape became.

He should leave.

He reached out and turned the key inside the ignition, bringing the engine to life. He put his hand on the gear shift and paused.

Koutarou Bokuto still called his mother “ _Mommy!!!!!_ o(≧▽≦)o.”

_He’s probably harmless._

Keiji stared through his windshield at the door into which Koutarou had disappeared upon arrival at the motel.

_It’s just for a night or two._

It was probably safe.

Probably…

The door opened and Koutarou appeared once more, a bag slung across his chest. He yawned and reached up to rub his bandaged eye.

_No, don’t—_

The instant he touched the injury, he dropped down into a crouch and held his hand over the bandage, lips twisted in a grimace.

Keiji sighed.

_He’s definitely harmless._

And he had no one else to take care of him.

Keiji wasn’t a people person, but his conscience wouldn’t allow him to let someone like Koutarou Bokuto take care of himself.

Koutarou stood once more and slouched along the front of the motel. One of the doors opened and a woman with a baby on her hip emerged. Koutarou paused and then visibly perked, hopping up to the pair with a bright grin. The woman faced him and he spoke animatedly to her, reaching out and taking the baby’s hand as she held it out towards him. He released her and then started digging around in his bag, still flapping his mouth excitedly as the woman watched him quietly. He pulled out a beaded trinket and held it out in front of the baby, shaking it up and down. The baby reached for it and he passed it over with a laugh.

They spoke for another few seconds before Koutarou patted the baby’s stomach and then passed them, waving over his shoulder as he continued in the direction of the truck.

 _He’s harmless_.

Koutarou rushed up to the truck and tossed his bag in the bed before climbing into the cab once more. He grinned at Keiji.

“That baby is so cute!” he said. “Her name is Holly, isn’t that neat?”

“Do you know them?” Keiji shifted the truck into reverse and then turned and peered over his shoulder as he backed up.

“Nah. Well… I’ve seen them a couple times. But see, she reminds me of this one time… okay so this one time I was in Toronto and there was a music festival going on and one of my buddies… oh man. He is terrified of kids, right? Well we were all pretty drunk and my buddy, he found this lost kid crying behind a trash can and he just started panicking hardcore.” Koutarou grinned. “And so like… we had dared him to get his left nipple pierced just the week before. And he was walking around shirtless because it was hot as balls out that day. He finds this kid and he picks her up and starts looking for the parents, almost in _tears_ because he was panicking so hard, but the kid…” Koutarou snorted into his hand. “The kid _grabs on_ to his piercing and just _yanks it straight out of his skin._ ”

Keiji winced.

“We found him  _sobbing_ his eyes out in the grass with this tiny little kid in his lap, who is just happy as can be. Another of my friends, the least drunk one, took her and went and found her parents and my buddy swore he was never going to have kids ever.” Koutarou scratched his cheek. “But I think maybe he should just not let us peer pressure him into piercing parts of his body. You know… for the _fourth time_.”

He yawned and leaned his head back.

“Hey, ‘Kaashi, have you ever heard of the Mandela Effect?”

“Uhm… I think so…”

“It’s like where a big group of people all believe the same not true thing, right? Like that the Monopoly man has a monocle. He doesn’t!”

“Yeah…”

“Well me and my friends have our own Mandela Effect that happened to us. So ‘cause like, we all swore that when we were young, there was this cat that hung around our houses and we named him Mr. Squiggles and fed him leftovers from our lunches every day. Turns out, Mr. Squiggles never existed. Isn’t that weird?”

“Maybe he was an imaginary cat that you all created together.”

“I could have sworn he was real though! When Tetsu found out that he actually wasn’t, he cried. He even had a little notebook of sketches of him. He was black. With a little white triangle on his chest.” He hummed and stared out the window. “The reason I thought of that just now is that today is the three year anniversary of us finding out he never existed. Every year I call Tetsu up and make fun of him about it.”

Keiji paused and then reached into his pocket. He pulled out the cell phone and offered it to him. “Here… I forgot to give you this back.”

“Oh!” Koutarou took it from him and powered it up. “Good! Now I can call him!”

Keiji turned his eyes forward to the road as he drove slowly down it. After a few seconds Koutarou said in a soft voice,

“You called my dad…”

Keiji gulped.

“You didn’t happen to… tell him…”

“I hung up as soon as he answered,” Keiji admitted. “He sounded scary.”

Koutarou let out a deep breath. Keiji glanced at him. He wore an expression of relief that eventually faded into a smile as he lifted his phone to his ear. After a few seconds he said,

“Hey Tetsuhoe! Happy anniversary! Mr. Squiggles never existed and you have a diary dedicated to an imaginary cat!” He hesitated and then let out a loud laugh. “You’re welcome! I love you too, Bro! Hm? … ah… yeah I’m good. Oh, that was ‘Kaashi. He’s gonna let me stay at his place tonight! He’s really nice!” Koutarou fell silent for a long moment. Then he murmured, “Well… the Amazon. Why? Did he ask… nah. I mean… it’s probably been a month by now… no I didn’t.” Koutarou slumped back in his seat and sighed. “Should we do a funeral? It might be legit this time.”

Keiji blinked.

_Funeral?_

_Who died?_

“Okay. Let’s give it another few weeks,” Koutarou said. “He might still show up. Okay, yeah call me later. Say hi to Britney for me.” He laughed. “’Kay, bye.” He hung up the phone with a grin and lowered it to his lap. He turned to Keiji and said with a snicker, “He started crying when I brought up Mr. Squiggles.”

Keiji swallowed. “Ah… did… did someone die?”

Koutarou fell silent for a moment before letting out a laugh. “Uhm… well maybe? Not sure yet. I mean… he’s probably fine!” His laughter turned awkward. “It happens sometimes, ya know? Uh… he’ll probably show up eventually… I hope.”

Keiji slowed at a stop sign and glanced up and down the street. “You don’t sound all that concerned.”

“It’s alright! He’s got a habit of falling off the face of the world for a month or two. Hajime always finds him in the end though, so it’s all good!” He peered out the window and chewed on his thumbnail. “Though he may be coming home in a body bag this time…”

Keiji shifted on the seat uneasily.

“But probably not!” Koutarou said brightly. “Uh… anyway, it’s best just to not think about it. Hey ‘Kaashi, are you sure I’m not gonna be in your way?” He turned to Keiji and cocked his head to the side.

_You’ll most definitely be in the way._

“It’s fine,” Keiji said. “I’ll probably be gone for most of the day since I have work so…”

“So I’m gonna be in your place alone?”

“Please don’t rob me.”

“I wouldn’t rob you! You’re being so nice to me even though you don’t know me!” Koutarou stared through the windshield. “I could be a crazy rapist murderer for all you know!”

Keiji’s foot slowly fell off of the pedal, heart racing.

“I’m not though,” Koutarou reassured him. “I cry when I have to kill spiders. Ah, that reminds me of a story.”

Keiji really didn’t know what to do with the mixed signals Koutarou was giving him. Was he an organ harvester or not?

“So the last time I saw my buddy… the one that might be dead- but probably isn’t!- we were in the jungle, right?” Koutarou paused to yawn and Keiji glanced at him. His lone eye fluttered slightly and his voice dwindled as he continued, “We were in the jungle. And my friend, he… he _loves_ animals. All animals. But he _hates_ bugs. All bugs. So… I swear to god, half an hour after he was almost consumed by a huge anaconda because _Oh my god, Koutarou look how cute it is! I want to hug it!_ He walked into a spider web.” Koutarou let out a deep breath. “And the spider was on his face and he… he… I swear to god. He pulls a big ol’ combat knife out of his boot and puts it to his throat and threatens to kill himself.” He chuckled, “Big fat tears just rollin’ down his cheeks, shakin’ so hard that he actually draws a little blood… sobbing _Koutarou… Koutarou… I can’t do it. I can’t live like this._ ”

Keiji turned the truck and pulled into the small parking lot next to his apartment building.

“What happened next?” he couldn’t help but ask, cutting the engine and turning towards him.

“I grabbed the spider and chucked it as far as I could.” Koutarou shivered. “It was a big one too. Then I pried the knife out of his hands and we sat on a rock for an hour as he cried. Which… I mean… was dumb. It was the jungle. There were bugs everywhere. And every time one came near him he just started screaming…” He rubbed his temple. “Oh man he’s definitely dead. I never should have left him...”

Keiji glanced through the window at the tall, industrial apartment building across the parking lot.

_Last chance to back out._

“I wonder if Helen still wants to dye my hair,” Koutarou mumbled. “She is so nice. She said she would make me a casserole if I helped her paint her shed. I think I’ll do it. I like casserole. And painting. It’s fun.”

Keiji sighed, “We’re here, Bokuto."

Koutarou blinked lethargically and sat up. “Hm? We’re here? Is this where you live?”

“Yes.” Keiji climbed out of the truck and then moved around to the passenger side as Koutarou opened the door and slid out. Keiji grabbed his bag from the bed of the truck and slung it over his shoulder.

“I can carry that!” Koutarou said.

“You look like you’re ready to pass out.” Keiji took his arm and led him across the parking lot.

“Heh… one time Tetsu passed out and he fell right on top of the girl he had a crush on at the time. She hated him after that and never wanted to talk to him. But it all worked out because turns out she was a real jerk.”

Keiji opened the front door of the building and Koutarou passed him inside. He glanced around curiously as he went on, “Apparently she had only ever talked to him to get to our other friend anyway. When the friend she was after found out, he tore her apart in front of the entire class and made her cry.”

Keiji took his arm once more and pulled him in the direction of the stairs to the left.

“Hmm…” Koutarou mused. “It was really harsh. Even for him. But then again, he doesn’t discriminate between boys and girls. The way he says it, _Doesn’t matter what’s between your legs, if you deserve it, you’re going down.”_ He chuckled sheepishly, “Maybe it’s better that he’s dead… err… _maybe_ dead.”

Keiji paused at the bottom of the stairs and glanced at Koutarou. “I’m on the top floor… do you think you can make it?”

He thrust a fist in the air. “Let’s do it!”

Keiji led him to the side of the circular stairwell and urged him to take the railing, then supported him from the other side as they trudged slowly up.

“I told them I didn’t want the anesthetic,” Koutarou grumbled a few floors later. “Makes me sleepy and loopy. I don’t like it.”

“I’m not sure if they’re allowed to do surgery without anesthetic,” Keiji said, holding his elbow steady when he swayed slightly. “There’s gotta be some kind of law against it.”

“They did it in Russia when I got stabbed by that crazy guy on the train.” He hesitated. “Ah… then again, that wasn’t really a hospital that I went to so maybe they don’t have to follow laws… or maybe Russian laws are just different.”

Keiji let out a breath. He was finding it difficult distinguishing truth from lie. Surely Koutarou couldn’t have experienced _half_ of the things he boasted about, right? Close encounters with an anaconda… Russian surgery… it sounded like stuff from a James Bond movie. Maybe Koutarou was a chronic liar who made up extraordinary stories for attention due to the obvious neglect his friends and family have put him through.

Then again… he did lose his eye in some mysterious fashion. And the people Keiji had spoken to on the phone had said that things like that happened often. Could he be doing it to himself? A cry for help?

They finally reached the top floor and Keiji led him to the tall mahogany door of his apartment. He lifted his keys to the keyhole and then paused.

_Oh._

He glanced at Koutarou, who blinked sleepily and yawned.

“Uhm… Bokuto… could you wait out here for a minute? I have… uh… I have some things I’d like to put away before you come in…”

“Sure, sure.” Koutarou leaned heavily against the wall next to the door and rested his head back. “I’ll be right here.”

Keiji hesitated and then quickly unlocked the door. He rushed inside and closed the door behind him. He dropped Koutarou’s bag on the table to the left of the entrance and then rushed across the expansive studio apartment. He rounded the couch and started grabbing up items. He carried them to the far left of the room and shoved them sloppily into their designated places. He swept across the apartment, grabbing this here and that there before carrying them back to the corner and discarding them. He jumped and caught the corner of the burgundy curtain pinned against the wall and dragged it down over the corner and the evidence.

Once he was satisfied that he hadn’t forgotten anything, he rushed back to the door and pulled it open.

“Okay,” he said, somewhat breathlessly.

Koutarou roused, lifting his head from the wall and turning his lone, bloodshot eye in Keiji’s direction. He smiled. “All ready?”

“Yes, please come in.”

“Thanks again, ‘Kaashi.” Koutarou stumbled into the apartment and gazed around. “Wow! This place is sick! It’s so big! Whoa… is it all one room? Crazy!”

“Ah… well there’s a bathroom.” Keiji pointed to the door off to the left.

Koutarou looked at the corner where Keiji had pulled the curtain down. “What’s over there?”

“Ah, uhm.” Keiji’s face burned. “That’s… that’s my private stuff. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t look over there…”

Koutarou stared at it for a long second before turning away. He smiled. “Sure thing. Your place, your rules.” His eyes drifted over Keiji's shoulder. “Neat! Your bed is a bunk bed?”

“Uhm.” Keiji moved to the side as Koutarou rounded him and walked up to the full sized bed up against the wall to the right. He paused next to the ladder and peered underneath at the desk covered in textbooks and notepads.

“Are you in school, Akaashi?”

“Well… the semester ended last week but… yeah, technically.”

“Awesome! What are you studying?”

“… History…”

“Cool!”

Keiji gulped and clasped his hands in front of him, chest warming slightly at Koutarou's blind enthusiasm about the subject that usually elicited eye rolls from others.

Koutarou moved past the bed to the small kitchenette area in the right corner, “This place is so nice! It feels so open and refreshing!” He did a short sweep of the kitchen and then walked to the wall opposite the door. “And these windows are huge! Ooooh, nice view too!”

Keiji peered through the windows at the branches of the tall linden tree behind the apartment building.

“It’s just leaves…”

“I love leaves!”

The corner of Keiji’s lips ticked up slightly.

Koutarou yawned again and walked over to the long, dark grey couch. He examined it quietly for a moment and then glanced at the low coffee table in front of it and then the large TV on the oak cabinet.

Keiji watched him silently.

_What’s so interesting?_

_Did I leave something lying out?_

“This place feels really warm,” Koutarou said softly.

Keiji blinked. “Should I put on the AC?”

“Heh, that’s not what I meant.” He yawned yet again and rubbed his eye, almost touching his bandaging before remembering. “So,” he smiled at Keiji and then looked back to the couch, “This is my bed then?”

“I need my couch.”

Koutarou lifted an eyebrow. “Then I can sleep on the floor…”

“You can take my bed.”

He frowned. “I can’t take your bed!”

“I need my couch,” Keiji insisted.

“Then I’ll sleep on the floor!”

“You can have my bed,” he said again. “Honestly. I usually end up falling asleep on the couch anyway. It’s comfortable.”

“It doesn’t feel right,” Koutarou grumbled. “I’m just the guest. I’m intruding. I can sleep on the floor. I’ve slept on worse.” He perked, “Oh… that reminds me of a story. One time we got lost in Amsterdam, right?”

Keiji walked over to his bed and Koutarou followed, still speaking.

“It was my fault. I was the one that lost my phone and the bags. I shouldn’t have taken that suspicious looking Dramamine from that random old lady on the plane but I was feeling so motion sick there was no way I was going to make it through the fourteen hour flight. Although now that I think about it, I was probably just hungover. Well anyway.”

Keiji climbed the ladder to his bed and pulled down one of the many blankets and two of the six pillows. He dragged them off of the bed and climbed back down to the floor as Koutarou went on,

“So one of my friends was trying to get this person working at this inn to let us stay the night for free but he would only do it if he had sex with him and he was like, _Okay!_ but Hajime was _not_ allowing that, so he dragged us out of there and we basically walked around for a few hours before passing out in a park. Man that was uncomfortable. And cold!”

Keiji carried the blanket and pillows to the couch and tossed them onto it. He turned to Koutarou and took his arm.

“The next morning, the police woke us up and hauled us off to the station. They thought we were vagrants or drunks or something. My friend tried to get us out of it by offering the officers sex. And well, even though prostitution wasn’t illegal… bribing the police was.”

Keiji led him across the apartment to the bed again.

“He spent the night in jail and we were let go in order to go look for our lost bags. Hajime was so _pissed._ He whipped our asses real good for that one.”

Keiji pulled him to the ladder and then nudged him up to it. Koutarou climbed dutifully.

“Hajime really puts up with a lot. He’s a great guy. Man I should plan a party for him or something. Maybe get him a gift. He doesn’t like celebrations though. Err… he actually just doesn’t like loud noises… but then again neither does—”

“Lie down, Bokuto,” Keiji commanded, climbing up the ladder behind him.

Koutarou stretched out on the bed and yawned. Keiji pulled a blanket over the top of him and fluffed the pillow under his head.

“We can share,” Koutarou mumbled, blinking lethargically as he leaned over him and tucked him in. “There’s room. We can just share.”

“Would you like me to get you some water?” Keiji rested a hand on his chest and patted it soothingly.

Koutarou hummed, obviously struggling to keep his lone golden eye open. “I’m ‘kay.”

“Alright,” Keiji softened his voice. “Go to sleep. I need to be at work early tomorrow morning so I’ll leave the spare key on the table next to the door. If you need to leave for any reason, take it with you and lock the door behind. Feel free to eat or drink anything and make yourself at home. Understand?”

Koutarou smiled sleepily. “’Kaashi… you’re so nice. Definitely the nicest person I’ve ever met.”

“Yes well… get some sleep.” Keiji leaned back but Koutarou’s hand reached up and covered his where it still rested on his chest.

He closed his eye, still smiling. “I’m going to make it up to you. Promise.”

“That’s not necessary.”

“We’re gonna be good friends from now on.”

Keiji hesitated.

_That sounds dangerous._

“Good night, Bokuto.” Keiji slid his hand out from under his.

He didn’t receive an answer, as Koutarou had already fallen fast asleep. Keiji stared down at him for a long silent moment.

He hadn’t known Kouarou Bokuto for longer than a few hours, and those hours were filled with random ramblings that may or may not be ninety percent fabrications. But there was one thing that he had come to the certain conclusion of in these short few hours.

Koutarou Bokuto was harmless.

* * *

 

Keiji checked his watch as he pulled open the door to the café. He was a little late, and was probably going to catch hell for that. He let out a soft sigh and entered the building.

“Welcome!” a feminine voice called and he gave a nod to the barista standing behind the counter, pouring a cup of coffee.

He swept the café with his eyes until he found them.

He headed in the direction of the circular table in the corner around which Tooru, Daichi, and Kenma were sitting. Tooru was on his phone and Keiji let out a breath of relief. Maybe he wouldn’t catch too much hell, then.

Daichi spotted him first and lifted a hand in a silent hello, smiling gently. Keiji returned the wave and then quietly pulled out a vacant chair and sat down.

“Well, actually, Dylan,” Tooru snapped tersely. “It’s _completely_ your fault. After all, _you_ were the one who hired proofreaders that don’t know the fucking difference between _‘all right’_ and ‘ _alright_ ’ you incompetent piece of sewer waste!” He let out a huff and then closed his eyes, inhaling deeply through his nose. He breathed it out again and opened his eyes, adopting a serene expression. “Alright. I’m ready.” He pulled the phone back and tapped the screen, unmuting the line. He pressed it to his ear once more and said sweetly, “No, no, it’s alright, Dylan. It was an honest mistake. We caught it before publication so there’s no harm done, is there?”

Keiji leaned his chin in the palm of his hand and watched him in amusement.

The sweetness in his tone didn’t match the irritated expression that his face slowly morphed into once more as he went on, “Exactly. Everything is fine. So let’s just move on and have a good publication date, shall we? Okay, thank you very much, as usual. I’ll talk to you later. Buh-bye.” He ended the call and slapped the phone down on the table. “ _Fucking piece of shit._ ”

“It’s immensely entertaining to see your two faces work,” Daichi said with a smirk, lifting a tall coffee cup to his lips.

“Shut up.”

“One of these days, that’s going to bite you in the ass,” Kenma muttered, glancing up from the game he was playing on his phone. “Like… you’re going to forget to mute and say all that shit so they can hear.”

“I need an outlet for my anger, Kenma,” Tooru snapped.

“So what’s the story?” Keiji asked. “Sloppy proofreaders?”

“ _Who doesn’t know the difference between ‘alright’ and ‘all right’?_ ” Tooru gripped at his perfectly styled hair with both hands. “I learned that in elementary school! These people are supposed to be _professionals_ , goddamn it! And yet on the _first_ page… the _first fucking page_ … they’ve changed all my ‘alrights’ into ‘all rights’! I’m going to kill something!”

“Your life is so exciting.” Kenma lifted his cup to his lips and blew on the steaming liquid.

Tooru clicked his tongue and crossed his arms over his chest. He looked to Keiji. “Anyway. You were _late_.”

Keiji sighed. “Does it really matter? You were on the phone—”

“You were late. Therefore you have to buy us all a round of muffins. That’s the rule, Keiji.”

“That’s the rule, Keiji,” Daichi repeated, grinning.

“The law of the land says you must buy us muffins,” Kenma said.

Keiji sighed. “Fine. What kind do you want?”

Tooru opened his mouth to reply but the sound of Keiji’s cell phone blaring cut him off.

“Just a second.” Keiji pulled it from his pocket, ignoring the hilariously red color Tooru’s face was turning. He stared down at the number for a moment. He didn’t recognize it. A telemarketer? He hummed and answered it, placing it against his ear.

“Hello?”

“ _Akaashi! Where ya at right now?_ ”

Keiji’s eyebrows lifted. “Uhm… I’m at a café.”

“ _What’s it called? What street?_ ”

“Shot Through the Heart. It’s on Main. Across from Denny’s.”

“ _I’ll be there in a minute! Don’t leave!_ ”

The line went dead and Keiji stared at the screen quietly.

“Who was that?” Daichi asked. “He sure is loud.”

Keiji saved the number in his contacts. “Ah… just someone I met the other day…”

“Someone you _met_?” Tooru leaned on his elbows and wiggled his eyebrows. “Met how? Where? Are you two sleeping together?”

“I sleep on the couch.”

For a moment, no one replied. They stared at him with wide eyes until Kenma said in a dull voice,

“What.”

Keiji shifted uncomfortably. “It’s a long story… also, why does your mind immediately turn to sex whenever a new person is introduced to the mix?”

"I think it's a reasonable thing to wonder about," Tooru shrugged.

"It's not."

“’Kaashi!”

All four men turned towards the door. Keiji’s eyes widened. Koutarou waved vigorously as he strode in their direction. There was plenty about his appearance to drop jaws, from the paint splattered jeans to the muscular, exposed biceps, but Keiji couldn’t seem to drag his gaze from the spiked, white and grey hair atop his head in place of the messy black mop he had gotten used to seeing the past week.

“What do you think?” Koutarou spread his arms out wide, grinning brightly.

Keiji blinked. “Ah… uhm… it’s…”

“Helen dyed it for me!” He reached up and patted the hair gently. “And I helped paint her shed so I just had the best casserole of my life!” He sunk into an empty chair next to him and patted his stomach. “Oh, and what about my patch? Cool, huh?” He snapped the strap holding the brown leather eyepatch to his eye.

“It’s… very nice, Bokuto.”

“Thanks!”

He glanced around the table, smiling. “Hello!”

“Hi.” Daichi recovered first. He offered his hand and Koutarou shook it. “My name is Daichi.”

“Koutarou!”

Tooru leaned towards Keiji. “Keiji… since when are you friends with a pirate?”

Keiji sighed and rubbed his eyes. “It’s a long story.”

“Hey, Akaashi.” Koutarou turned towards him. “You don’t have a drink yet? Let me buy you a coffee!”

“And our muffins,” Kenma said.

“Eh, you guys want muffins? I’ll buy!”

“Bokuto, you don’t have to do that—” Keiji held a hand out.

Koutarou stood. “I just got paid in casserole. I’m in a good mood! What kind of muffins you guys want?”

“Banana nut,” Tooru said brightly.

“Cinnamon apple.” Kenma turned to his phone and tapped the screen.

“Uh, poppy seed, please.” Daichi smiled apologetically.

Koutarou turned to Keiji, “’Kaashi?”

He sighed. “Lemon crumb.”

“Okay, I’ll be back!” Koutarou turned and rushed off to the counter.

Keiji reluctantly turned to the others.

Tooru leaned forward. “Spill it. Who is he? How did you meet? What’s with the eyepatch? Are you two having sex?”

Keiji sat back in his chair and frowned uneasily. “I said it was a long story, didn’t I?”

“Give us the short version,” Kenma said without looking up from his phone.

Keiji sighed again. “Fine… His name is Koutarou Bokuto. I found him when I was working one day. He was injured so I took him to the hospital. None of his family could come take care of him, so I invited him to stay at my apartment for a little while.”

“When did this happen?” Daichi asked, eyes flicking back towards the counter, where Koutarou laughed boisterously with the barista.

“About a week ago.”

“A _week_?” Tooru repeated. “A whole _week_? Why?”

Keiji dragged a hand through his hair. “Well, it was just going to be for a few nights as he recovered from surgery, but then he fell down the stairs at my apartment and hurt his ankle and then he had to go back in to the doctor so they could put a temporary prosthetic in his socket and so…”

“So you adopted him, basically,” Kenma interrupted, lowering his phone. “I can’t see this going bad at all.”

“You’re not supposed to feed strays, Keiji.” Tooru rubbed his knuckles roughly on the top of his head. “Now you’ll never get rid of him!”

“He seems nice,” Daichi said simply.

“He’s not staying with me anymore.” Keiji slapped Tooru’s hand away. “He left yesterday.”

“But he’s still coming back for more scraps.” Tooru glared over his shoulder.

Keiji followed his stare. Koutarou had his phone out and was showing the barista something on the screen, talking animatedly, flapping his hand around. She laughed and pressed a hand over her mouth, eyes wide.

Keiji turned forward once more. “He’s harmless.”

“He looks like a James Bond villain,” Kenma observed, suspicious gaze peering at the loud man from between two curtains of bleached hair. “Or the drummer for some underground punk rock band.”

Daichi chuckled. “I can see that.”

Keiji glanced over his shoulder at Koutarou for another long moment.

“What’s wrong?” Tooru pressed, poking him in the shoulder.

Keiji frowned and faced forward. “Well… I just don’t know what to think about him.”

“What do you mean?” Daichi sipped his coffee. “He seems fun.”

“He’s harmless. But… he’s either a chronic liar or the world’s most interesting man.”

“He sure _looks_ like the world’s most interesting man,” Tooru admitted.

“What makes you think he’s a liar?” Daichi asked.

“It’s just that he’s always telling these outlandish stories…” Keiji stared over Kenma’s head at the painting of a lotus hanging on the wall. “I don’t know whether I should believe them or not.”

“Stories?” Daichi cocked an eyebrow.

“Completely unbelievable stories,” Keiji nodded. “About getting stabbed in Russia… jumping out of a plane in Argentina… accidentally blowing up a bounce house…” He furrowed his brows. “I don’t know what to believe.”

“The guy showed up out of nowhere, missing an eye,” Tooru said pointedly. “I’d believe whatever crazy story he told me.”

Keiji pursed his lips and drummed his fingers on the table quietly.

“Here we go!” Koutarou walked up with a tray. He set it down and started distributing muffins. “Banana nut… apple cinn… poppy seed… and lemon!” He set the tray on a table nearby and sat beside Keiji. “Here, ‘Kaashi.” He passed over a cup.

Keiji blinked at it for a moment before taking it.

“So how’d you guys meet?” Koutarou asked the others brightly.

“School,” Daichi replied. “We all played volleyball together.”

“Cool! Volleyball is so fun! Ah… that reminds me of a story!” Koutarou wrapped his hand around his own coffee as he went on, “So I was in Mexico and these guys challenged me and my buddies to a game of beach volleyball. They had no idea that we were actually really good at it so our setter, he's the only one that speaks Spanish, he got them to make this _huge_ bet, right?”

Keiji lifted his coffee to his lips and sipped it tentatively. He stared at it in surprise.

 _Mocha-nut Frappuccino…_ he glanced at Koutarou.

_Lucky guess?_

“So these guys are so cocky,” Koutarou said with a grin. “They’re totally convinced they’re gonna win. We gather up this big crowd and our setter is shit talking them like _crazy_. He almost started a fight through the net.”

Daichi chuckled. “Ah… I know a little something about troublesome setters.” He gave the other three pointed stares and they avoided his eyes silently.

“Oh man, our setter never skipped an opportunity to start a fight!” Koutarou laughed. “I swear, he’s the reason why Hajime sometimes finds grey hairs. Err… in _his_ head. Because like… obviously he’d find grey hairs from Koushi because well… that's his natural color… uh anyway! So, we start playing and we’re just _slaughtering_ them. They’re _pissed._ Halfway through the second set, we hear this _screaming,_ right?”

Tooru leaned his elbows on the table and listened intently. Even Kenma set his phone aside and gave the story his full attention.

Koutarou cleared his throat and continued, “The lady Koushi picked up at the bar the night before comes running across the beach, yelling at the top of her lungs. Apparently she didn’t appreciate Koushi sneaking out of her room in the morning,” he waved his hand. “But that happens all the time. The thing is… turns out she was the little sister of one of the guys on the other team.” He leaned back in the chair and groaned. “That’s when shit goes downhill. Everyone starts yelling at once. Me and my other buddies who don’t speak Spanish didn’t know what the crap was going on. Koushi is getting surrounded and he’s rearin’ to fight. Hajime is pushing dudes out of the way, Tetsu is filming it, as unhelpful as _always._ And honestly I just want to get out from under the sun.”

Keiji observed the others. They were enraptured in the story, wide-eyed and quiet.

“So eventually things got so out of hand that shots were fired.” Koutarou frowned. “Which is like… mistake. Hajime and Koushi… they’ve got a thing about guns. Not good. Me and Tetsu grab Koushi and get him the fuck out of there while Hajime goes full berserk on these guys. It was brutal. I had nightmares for weeks.” He shivered. “Anyway… moral of the story is never pull a gun on Hajime.”

The table fell silent for a long minute.

“Did you get your money?” Kenma finally asked.

“Oh yeah! While all the shit was going down, Testu snuck over and stole the bet money.” Koutarou laughed. “So I guess he was kind of helpful after all.”

“Did your friend kill the others?” Tooru pressed, wide-eyed.

“No! No… he’s not allowed to do that anymore.”

“ _Anymore?_ ”

Daichi laughed. “Sounds like you’ve led a pretty interesting life.”

Koutarou hummed and sipped his coffee. “It’s easy to lead an interesting life when you’ve got interesting friends.”

“I gotta agree with you there.” Daichi smiled. His cell phone rang and he straightened and pulled it from his pocket. The smile slipped slowly from his lips and his eyes dipped to the table as he answered the call.

“Hey, Honey. Huh? Oh… right, right. I forgot. No… I’m sorry.”

Kenma picked his own phone up again, lips twisting in irritation. Tooru drummed the table loudly with his fingers and Keiji stared down into his coffee silently.

“Alright. Yeah, I’ll be there soon.” Daichi straightened. “Uh huh,” he hesitated. “Love you.” He ended the call.

“ _Liar_ ,” Tooru growled.

Daichi ignored him and shoved the phone into his pocket. “Sorry. I’ve got to go.” He looked to Koutarou and smiled. “It was nice to meet you, Koutarou.”

“Same!”

They shook hands again and Daichi stood. “Thanks for the muffin. Guess I’ll have to take it to go.” He lifted the muffin and his coffee and turned to the others, “I’ll see you later.” He paused and then glanced at Keiji. “Are you going to the…”

Keiji looked away. “Yeah.”

Daichi hesitated and then sighed. “Alright. Later.”

They watched him leave quietly.

No one spoke for a moment and Tooru clicked his tongue, picking at his muffin. Keiji sipped his coffee and then stared at it wordlessly.

Koutarou leaned towards him. “Is it okay?”

He looked up in surprise. “Huh?”

“The coffee.” Koutarou pointed down at his cup. “Did I choose right?”

“Oh…” Keiji blinked. “Yes. Actually… this is my favorite drink.”

“I knew it!” Koutarou grinned wide.

“How?”

“You’ve got Almond Joy wrappers lying all around your apartment!”

Keiji’s eyes widened and he let out a sudden snort, turning his face away.

_Almond Joy? Is he an idiot?_

He turned back to him and Koutarou smiled proudly, the apples of his cheeks tinted a happy shade of pink.

The corners of Keiji's lips twitched.

Yep.

Koutarou Bokuto was definitely harmless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not much happens in this chapter.  
> That's mostly because while I have later chapters thought up, these early ones are up in the air.  
> ┐(￣ヘ￣;)┌  
> I'll figure something out, promise.
> 
> I love rambly Bokuto and all his outrageous stories. He's great at small talk.
> 
> Well, here's chapter two. I hope you all enjoy it even though not much happens! Thanks for reading, I'll do my best in the future.  
> o( ❛ᴗ❛ )o
> 
> Come hang out with me on [Tumblr.](http://mooifyourecows.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Next Time:  
> Yet another bad influence


	3. Hopeless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keiji doesn't know who is more hopeless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mood Music:  
> [Don't Get Too Close](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=atUuy4_m4NE)  
> "They say we don't come any closer,  
> It was something ya couldn't see.  
> Yeah we don't come any closer,  
> When you're weak boy, ya bend at the knees."

“You were supposed to tell me when he left Scotland.”

“I didn’t know he left. I went to wake him up and his room was empty.”

“ _Tch._ I swear, he’s just as bad as… oh. You wouldn’t happen to be flying over the Amazon in the near future, would you?”

“For fuck’s sake.”

“Told you we shouldn’t have let them go off on their own.”

“Yeah. Alright. You get Idiot number one. I’ll get Idiot number two.”

“Good luck.”

“Likewise.”

* * *

 

“Ah, Keiji-chan, there you are.”

Keiji inhaled deeply before turning towards the voice. Two short women approached him, fingers daintily pinching the stems of champagne flutes. He greeted them with a short nod.

“Keiji-chan,” one of the women said, left side of her painted lips pulling into a small smirk. “When are you going to find yourself a nice girl and settle down?”

What a loaded question.

A deliberate, loaded question aimed specifically to prod.

To attack.

No one at the party had forgotten, after all.

It had only been a year since he had been dumped by his last boyfriend, after all.

Keiji took a moment to choose his words carefully, and then in fluid Japanese- the language in which she had spoken to him- he answered,

“For now I’d like to concentrate on my studies. I’m in no hurry to settle down yet.”

The women continued to stare at him, amusement written plainly in their gazes.

Of course they thought it was funny. It was hilarious, really. Hilarious that his father, whom most in participation of the party believed to be the highest authority among their small Asian American community, was burdened by this crop of… _bad seeds_.

First, the apathetic eldest son.

Then, the bad tempered daughter.

And last… well. _Keiji_.

“You could at least start looking,” one of the women said, lifting her champagne to her mouth. “My daughter has come back from her trip to Japan. You two got along in school, didn’t you?”

_Your daughter once poured milk down the back of my shirt and threw my textbook in the girl’s bathroom._

“I’m sure your daughter has many better options than me,” Keiji said, though it pained him. “I wouldn’t dare waste her time.”

The two women giggled.

“Well, I don’t _disagree_ ,” she said, chin lifting. “After all, she did graduate in the top five of your class, didn’t she?”

_Didn’t she._

_As if you could’ve possibly forgotten that bit of bragging fodder._

_But let’s forget that she was number five._

_And that I was number three._

Buzzing drew his attention to his pocket and he resisted the urge to let out a deep breath of relief at the interruption. He cleared his throat and murmured out an apology as he pulled his cell phone out and checked the screen.

_Bokuto._

He hesitated and then looked to the women, who seemed slightly irritated.

“Excuse me,” he said. “This might be important. Sorry,” he gave them a slight bow and walked away, crossing the grassy yard towards an empty corner by a tall elm tree. He accepted the call and then held the phone to his ear as he answered in English,

“Hello?”

“ _Hey ‘Kaashi! Sorry! I butt dialed you!_ ”

Keiji stared at the bark of the tree’s trunk. “Butt dialed…”

Koutarou laughed. “ _Yeah! I was gonna hang up but I didn’t want you to think you needed to call me back. Sorry about that_!”

“Oh.” Keiji reached out and pressed a finger to a knot in the wood. “That’s alright…”

Koutarou was silent for a moment before asking, “ _Hey, are you alright? You sound kinda down._ ”

_I always sound down._

He hummed and lowered his eyes. “I’m fine. Just a little bored I guess.”

“ _Oh? Whatcha doin’_?”

“I’m at… a family thing.” He glanced over his shoulder at the small clumps of people mingling in the large backyard.

“ _That doesn’t sound boring!_ ”

“Hm.”

“ _Oh! A robin! Hey ‘Kaashi, do you have a favorite bird?”_

“A favorite bird?”

“ _Yeah! Like, everyone’s got a favorite animal right? Mine are grizzly bears! But birds are kind of like… a category of their own, you know? So I have a favorite animal and then a favorite bird. Also a favorite ocean animal, favorite insect, favorite lizard…”_

Keiji traced the knot slowly. “What’s your favorite bird then?”

“ _Owls! Well, not just any owl. Rufous legged owls are my favorite. They’re so pretty! And their call, it’s like… hold on. I can do it. It’s kinda soft okay it’s like this...”_  Koutarou made a guttural, staccato sound and Keiji’s lips curled. “ _Oh, but I also really like barn owls, because they’re really sophisticated and pure looking. And their call,”_ he hesitated. “ _It’s more like a scream, really. Listen, I’ll do it._ ”

Keiji held the phone slightly away from his ear as Koutarou let out a loud, high pitched screech. His mouth stretched into a wide grin and he pressed a hand over his face, trying desperately to hold in his laughter, chest quivering at the effort.

“ _Don’t I sound like them? I used to practice that all the time. It drove Hajime nuts! Especially this one time we were on a plane and our flight was like… thirteen hours or something like that. It was a pretty big plane and was super empty so we were allowed to sit anywhere we wanted.”_

Keiji leaned his shoulder on the tree and smiled softly, watching a cat walk leisurely across the top of the fence across the yard.

“ _So Koushi had a fight with Hajime and was sitting way on the other side of the plane. I was so bored that I decided to practice my bird calls. Then Koushi decided, in order to piss Hajime off, that he would mimic and answer each of my calls. So for about an hour or two, we were just screeching and hooting at each other across the plane. The flight attendants started wearing noise cancelling headphones. Eventually, Hajime went and made up with Koushi so he stopped trying to piss him off. It got boring again after that.”_

Keiji tugged on a loose thread at the hem of his shirt. “You didn’t get in trouble for being a disturbance?”

“ _Nah! Our buddy was the one flying the plane so we were able to do pretty much whatever we wanted. Halfway through it, he got on the intercom and said in a totally deadpan voice, 'Cocka-fuckin’-doodly-doo mother fuckers.' I swear that vein in Hajime’s forehead was about to explode!”_

“You have a pilot friend?”

“ _Yeah! Well, he doesn’t really fly anymore. At least, not as a job. He only did that for a year after being discharged from the Air Force.”_

“Hmm…” Keiji pulled the thread off and dropped it to the ground. “It sounds like you know a lot of really interesting people.”

“ _I do! All my friends are super interesting! I’m lucky to have them.”_ There was a distant shuffling sound over the phone and then Koutarou hummed quietly and murmured, “ _I didn’t know ankles bled this much…”_

Keiji lifted his head. “Are you bleeding?”

“ _Ah… yeah. Had a little accident. It’s alright. I’m on my way to the hospital right now._ ”

“The hospital?” Keiji straightened away from the tree. “It’s that serious?”

“ _Nah! I just think I need some stitches is all.”_

“Where are you?”

“ _Uhmm… walking.”_

“You’re _walking_ to the hospital,” Keiji repeated in disbelief.

“ _Well I was going to call an uber, but it’s really bleeding a lot and I would feel bad if I got blood in their car. And I wasn’t too far away from the hospital so it’s faster to walk anyway._ ”

“Where are you? I’ll come pick you up.”

“ _It’s no big deal! Don’t worry about me. I’m almost there. I can see it from where I am._ ”

“I’ll meet you at the hospital.” Keiji turned and scanned the faces of the party-goers.

“… _Why?_ ”

“Because you’re hurt,” he replied. “Don’t ask stupid questions.”

“ _But…_ ”

“I’ll be there in a few minutes.” Keiji ended the call and shoved the phone into his pocket. His eyes fell on a pair of faces standing on the opposite side of the yard and he headed quickly in their direction.

Daichi stood, smiling tightly, at Keiji’s sister’s side while a couple spoke to them in Japanese.

“Sawamura-kun, I’ve been meaning to ask how your training has been going,” the woman asked innocently. “Akaashi-san has taken you under his wing, hasn’t he?”

Keiji clenched his teeth in annoyance.

“You _know_ Daichi doesn’t speak Japanese,” his sister snapped, voice terse.

“Oh my,” the woman pressed a hand to her chest in mock realization. “I’m terribly sorry. I forgot,” she said, though she continued to speak the language. “It’s just that _everyone else_ speaks it. I get mixed up sometimes.”

Daichi cleared his throat and turned to Keiji’s sister. “June, what—”

“Forget it,” she growled in English and stomped away.

The couple lingered for a few more seconds and Daichi faced them awkwardly.

“Uhm…”

Keiji walked up and took Daichi’s arm. “Excuse us,” he said and tugged him away.

Once out of earshot, Daichi let out a sigh. “Thanks, Keiji.”

“I need to leave,” Keiji said.

“Huh? What for? I mean… not that I blame you. I would leave too if I could—”

“Bokuto is on his way to the hospital. I’m going to meet him there.”

Daichi’s eyebrows lifted. “Is he alright?”

“Probably. Will you tell my dad where I went?”

“Sure…”

“Thanks.” Keiji turned and crossed the yard without another word.

How had Koutarou lasted this long in life? Keiji hadn’t even known him for more than a couple weeks and he had spent half of it on a fucking gurney.

Where were his parents? Who let him out on his own?

What a troublesome man.

Keiji climbed into his truck and started it up. He took a moment to collect himself, letting out a long breath and pressing a hand over his heart.

Koutarou was such a troublesome person.

But… he had gotten Keiji out of that suffocating party.

So it wasn’t like he could really complain.

And Keiji wasn’t being forced to care for Koutarou. That was a conscious decision he was making, despite Koutarou’s insistence that it wasn’t a big deal. It was just a small injury that he could obviously still walk on.

Just some stitches.

It wasn’t that big of a deal.

Keiji pulled away from the curb and drove smoothly down the street in the direction of the hospital.

_It’s not a big deal._

He inhaled deeply.

But it _was_.

Koutarou was going to the _hospital_ for Christ’s sake. How was that not a big deal? How did his friends and family just… not care? Even if they were used to it, it should still be slightly worrying, hearing that their loved one was hurt, right?

He was _hurt_.

And when someone was hurting, he didn’t deserve to be alone.

Keiji knew that better than anyone else.

* * *

 

“Bokuto, I’m here.”

Koutarou lifted his gaze in the direction of the breathless voice. Keiji rushed towards him across the lobby, face flushed, chest rising and falling quickly, lips parted as he panted.

“Wow! That was good timing!” Koutarou smiled wide. “They’re about to take me back!”

Keiji paused at his side and gazed down at Koutarou’s legs, “Where is the…” he dwindled out when he saw the blood dripping down from the large gash on the side of Koutarou’s left ankle. He had rolled his pant leg up halfway up his calf, revealing the wound.

“It’s not so bad,” he said, turning to the nurse rounding the counter. “Doesn’t hurt much. Just kinda won’t stop bleeding.”

“This way, Koutarou,” the nurse called.

“Can my friend come?”

“Yes.”

Koutarou smiled at Keiji. “Wanna come?”

Keiji offered his hand, brows furrowing.

Koutarou glanced at it in surprise. It was an unnecessary gesture, but Keiji was looking at him with an expression of such sincere concern that Koutarou couldn’t find the strength in him to resist taking the arm, resting his hand inside Keiji’s open palm, and leaning slightly into the warmth of his side.

It was such a strange sensation.

Keiji held him steady, other hand gently touching his back, as if worried that he might collapse and need catching.

_What a strange sensation._

Koutarou honestly couldn’t recall the last time he had been… coddled. His own mother had been more than eager to cut her apron strings while Koutarou was still a little tike in elementary school.

 _“Learn to take care of yourself, Kou. No one is gonna be able to hold your hand every time you lose your way._ ”

Koutarou stared at Keiji in the corner of his eye as the man carefully walked at his side, long fingers clasped firmly around his hand.

His chest warmed and tightened.

“Come on in here,” the nurse opened a door and ushered the two men inside. “Koutarou, sit up there on that table. We’re gonna clean you up for the doctor so he can come in and stitch you back together, okay?”

“Yes Milady!”

Keiji helped him to the table and he hopped up onto it. Koutarou released Keiji’s hand but instead of stepping away, he lingered at his side, twisting his hands together.

“It’s okay, Akaashi!” he said brightly. “It doesn’t even hurt that much, promise!”

“But…”

“It doesn’t look too bad,” the nurse agreed, pulling a chair up and sitting on it with a rolling tray at her side. “Ugly, but not too deep. Unfortunately it’s just deep enough to need stitchin’, though.”

“There’s a lot of blood though…”

She shrugged and pulled on a pair of gloves. “Some wounds just like to be drama queens.”

“Oh!” Koutarou leaned back on the heels of his hands. “That reminds me of a story… so one time me and a couple of my friends went rock climbing. And one of them, he’s got this prosthetic leg, right? Not that you could tell just by watching him do shit. He’s still way more dexterous than me. Not that that's saying much as you can tell,” he waved a hand at his leg.

The nurse chuckled and started cleaning his ankle.

Koutarou glanced up at Keiji and smiled. He eyed him silently as he continued,

“So we were climbing up this _huge_ cliff face. One of my other friends already reached the top and was waiting for us. We were getting close but then my friend, his fucking _leg broke._ ” He hesitated, noticing Keiji’s eyes widen. “The prosthetic one,” he added. “Not his real one. Oh man that would’ve _sucked_. But anyway, apparently he had fucked the prosthetic up the night before when we got really drunk and were wrestling. He didn’t notice when he put it on that morning and so it snapped right in half. _Crazy_.”

He winced when the nurse started dabbing at his wound with some strong smelling alcohol. Keiji reached out and rested a hand on his shoulder. Koutarou warmed at the comforting touch and went on,

“So like we hear the snap and are all instantly freaking the fuck out. I’m screaming. Our friend up top was screaming and harnessing up in order to swing down and carry him up on his back, but then my friend was like, _wait, wait, wait, I got this._ So we calm down for a second. Dude reaches into his backpack and pulls out _another_ leg. He then, while still holding onto this damn cliff face, unstraps his broken leg, puts this other one on, and then climbs the rest of the way up.”

“That’s what I call being prepared!” The nurse let out a laugh.

“Our other friend was so mad. He was like, _How dare you worry me like that you sick son of a bitch!_ Man it was a wild day. Never did go get that broken leg either. I wonder if anyone found it and was like, _What the fuuuuuuuck?_ ”

The corners of Keiji’s lips softened and his brows loosened from their worried furrow and a strange sense of pride filled Koutarou.

“I have just one question,” Keiji said.

“Hm? What’s that?”

“What about what we were talking about before reminded you of that story?”

Koutarou hesitated.

“Huh… I can’t remember.”

Keiji chuckled, turning his face away, and the nurse laughed loudly.

They chatted idly for a few more minutes as the nurse continued to clean Koutarou’s wound, extracting grit and gravel that Keiji pointedly refused to look at. Eventually, she finished with her task and headed for the door.

“The doctor will be in shortly,” she said cheerfully on her way out of the room.

Koutarou hummed a tune as he turned his ankle left and right, examining the freshly cleaned, and finally no longer bleeding, wound. Keiji finally took a seat, rubbing a hand over his eyes. Koutarou glanced at him in the corner of his eye.

“Ya know, Akaashi, you didn’t need to come. It’s not so serious, see?”

Keiji didn’t look at the injury, leaning back in his chair with a sigh.

“How did it happen anyway?” he asked, tugging on the hem of his shirt.

“Oh!” Koutarou leaned forward, smiling brightly. “So! I was walking through the park, right? And there were these guys skateboarding! And see… one time when I was in Switzerland I learned how to skate from these really cool old dudes who were supposedly skating across Europe and they were so awesome! They gave me this neat braided bracelet but then Koushi traded it for a bottle of brandy at a street fair in Mulhouse. I was pretty bummed about it but then again, I probably would have lost it anyway because I have a bit of a reputation for losing things. I can’t even remember how many times I’ve lost my phone and I still don't know where I left my eye...” He pursed his lips together, “Well. Anyway. So… I ran into these guys and we got to talkin’ and they were trying to grind on this railing down these stairs, right? But I had actually successfully grinded back in Switzerland. Like… one time. And I thought maybe I remembered how.”

“Ah,” Keiji said. “And… you didn’t.”

“Heh. I didn’t.”

Keiji’s lips twitched.

“I’m actually a little bit shocked this is the only injury I got.” Koutarou crossed his arms over his chest and cocked his head to the side. “I probably should have broken a bone at least.”

“Thank God you didn’t.”

“Yeah! That would’ve been a total pain!” He grinned wide.

Keiji smiled and let out a soft sigh. “You’re hopeless.”

Koutarou blinked at him.

“What?”

He looked away. “Nothin’. I get that a lot.”

Koutarou stared across the room silently, kicking his legs back and forth. What was it about doctors and making their patients wait? His stomach growled softly and oh, right. He hadn’t eaten dinner yet. He should probably grab some fast food on the way back to his motel after leaving the hospital.

_Akaashi will probably insist on driving me._

_Hm…_

_Or maybe he will offer to let me stay the night at his place again._

_He doesn’t have to._

_But…_

_His bed sure is comfy._

He glanced at Keiji, whose brow was furrowed once more, eyes averted to his hands clasped in his lap.

_And his apartment feels nice to be in._

_It’s… warm._

Keiji lifted his head, “Uhm… Bokuto…”

Koutarou waited, cocking an eyebrow.

“I’m… sorry. I didn’t mean to… well… I realize it probably sounded kind of rude for me to say—”

“Hey Akaashi,” a sudden thought occurred to him.

Keiji closed his mouth.

“Didn’t you say you were at some family thing when we talked on the phone?” Koutarou scratched his cheek. “Was it really okay for you to leave?”

He hesitated, gunmetal blue eyes boring into him for long seconds before finally flitting away across the room.

“It’s fine. It’s not like it was all that important.”

“It wasn’t? But don’t you want to spend time with your family?”

“Not really.”

“But—”

“And it wasn’t really just my family, anyway,” Keiji continued to avoid his stare, thumb rubbing over his knuckles anxiously. “It’s more like… a community thing. They have them once every couple of weeks. I’ve been to probably hundreds of them and they’re all the same so it’s not like I’m missing out by leaving early this time.”

“A community thing,” Koutarou repeated. “It sounds fun.”

“It’s not.”

“It’s not?”

Keiji’s nose scrunched and he started picking at his fingernails, “It’s stupid. It’s like… like a country club for Asians with too much money and time on their hands.”

Koutarou snorted and then let out a sputtering laugh.

Keiji stared up at him, the annoyance tightening his features smoothing away into mild confusion.

“What’s so funny?”

Koutarou wiped tears from his eye, giggling. “A country club for Asians… what the heck is that?”

The apples of Keiji’s cheeks tinted pink, “It’s what it sounds like. A bunch of rich Asians with a superiority complex that gather together in order to beat themselves off to their own accomplishments all while ridiculing and bashing the country they are consciously living in in order to capitalize off of the culture which hasn’t actually been practiced in their family since their great grandparents sailed over from Japan.” His nails clicked as he continued to pick at them. “It’s gross. They’re gross. They’re hypocrites and they’re gross.”

Koutarou watched him silently for a moment, dragging his gaze from Keiji’s wrinkled brow, down his terse expression, to his fidgeting fingers and bouncing knees.

It was true that he hadn’t known Keiji for very long. And it was also true that he didn’t actually know much about him at all. Least of all his family situation. And definitely not about how he felt about said situation. But Koutarou didn’t need to know him to make the assumption that he had just stumbled onto a very touchy topic.

Keiji looked on edge. Sitting on the very corner of his chair, eyeing the door as if all he wanted to do was flee. And his fingers were still picking, still scratching, the skin around his nails turning raw and red.

Koutarou didn’t like seeing those fingers being mutilated.

Especially not by each other.

“Speaking of country clubs,” Koutarou said, leaning back on the heels of his hands. Keiji’s head tilted in his direction, though his eyes never left the door and promise of escape. Koutarou continued, “One time me and Testicle- ah… Tetsurou- snuck into this really posh country club down south. I’m tellin’ ya, ‘Kaashi. It was the real deal. They had horseback riding and croquet and everything.”

Keiji’s legs slowly stilled from their bouncing.

“Everyone wore white and it was super creepy! Like… uhh… what’s that called… _Stepford Wives?_ Wait, am I thinking about the right thing? Hm… maybe it was _Edward Scissorhands…_ ”

The left corner of Keiji’s lips lifted.

“Anyway." Koutarou kicked his legs. “It was so fancy! And everyone was so stuck up and _rude_. But they had so much food and it tasted delicious and oh man I filled up on lobster and champagne and…” he paused. “Ah… and ralphed in the golf course pond.”

Keiji pressed a hand over his lips to capture a snort, the redness around his nails already fading without the constant picking.

“But that was okay because no one saw that." Koutarou leaned forward. “What got us caught was Tetsu literally chloroforming people and dragging them into various closets and arranging them into funny positions and taking pictures of them.”

Keiji’s eyes widened and his mouth fell open.

“What?” he said. “ _Why?_ ”

“Ehh…” Koutarou tugged idly on the strap of his eyepatch. “I dunno… it’s kind of his thing, I guess. Me and Hajime keep telling him that he needs to find a new hobby but he doesn’t listen to us.”

“That sounds really dangerous. He could kill someone.”

“Oh, well, I mean…” Koutarou waved a hand. “It’s not really chloroform, exactly. See, he’s a total science nerd, right? So he made his own thing. Uhm, he gave it a name. But I think it’s something really dumb. Like a stupid pun or something. But anyway, he says it’s completely safe and natural. And it doesn’t knock you out as long as chloroform does. He’s done it to me hundreds of times and I’m still alright so I guess I believe him.”

Keiji didn’t look convinced, eyes darting towards his ankle and then to his eyepatch.

“Well. I'm still alive."

Keiji cleared his throat. “Anyway… how exactly did you two get caught?”

“So I was stuffing my face with more lobster after unloading in the pond, right?” Koutarou leaned his elbows on his knees. “I hadn’t seen Tetsu in a while and I figured I should go look for him. Knowing his… bad habits… I started checking all the closets and rooms and such. First I find three unconscious dudes sitting around a mop bucket, holding hands like they’re summoning some kind of mop demon.”

Keiji’s eyes narrowed.

“Then, there were these middle aged ladies laid out on the floor spelling out _Dick_ with their bodies.”

“ _What_ …”

“Oh and then in another closet he had actually dragged in one of the dining tables and set up a bunch of people around it and taped cards to their hands like they were playing poker.”

Keiji’s eyes lost some of their light as they glazed over, his forehead wrinkling.

“But what got him caught,” Koutarou said, “was the jousting match.”

“ _Jousting_ …” Keiji repeated in a whisper, brows furrowing even further.

“It was actually pretty cool. He had these two frat boy looking dudes propped up on these kitchen carts right?” Koutarou straightened and gestured with his arms, “He taped mops to their hands and then jerry-rigged this rope and pulley set-up so that he could stand at the side videotaping and pull the rope and they rolled towards each other, right? So after the third take, I heard the crashing sounds and came inside. Now, I usually don’t want anything to do with his criminal acts, but I was still a little sick from all the puking and then more eating and I’m kind of easy to boss around when I’m sick so…” He scratched the back of his neck. “So I was put on rope pulling duty while he videotaped. On the one hand, we got a bangin’ video. On the other hand,” he hesitated. “Security walked in right as the frat boys smashed into each other so hard that they flew off of the carts and one of them broke a tooth and the other got a nosebleed and bled all over their white polo shirts.”

Keiji rubbed his eyes. “Your friend sounds dangerous.”

“Well.” Koutarou shrugged. “If we’re talking dangerous, then he’s really no match for… well. I mean... he has his reasons... uhm...”

Keiji stared up at him dully. “Whoever you're talking about, please don’t ever introduce us.”

“He’s really not that bad. I promise.”

He didn’t look convinced. Koutarou laughed.

The door of the room opened and a man in a white lab coat and blue scrubs walked inside.

“Good evening, Mr. Bokuto,” he greeted cheerfully. “I hear you need some stitches.”

“Fix me up, Doc!”

Keiji stood once more and moved to Koutarou’s side, hands clasped.

“Alright, let’s have a look,” the doctor sat in front of him and examined his foot. He whistled, “Yep. Looks like a doozy. We’ll get you patched together in no time though.” He rolled to the sink and washed his hands and pulled gloves on. As he gathered his tools, Keiji shifted closer to Koutarou, one hand reaching out and resting on his arm.

And Koutarou felt warm.

_What a strange sensation._

* * *

 

“’Kaashi, seriously. You can have the bed.” Koutarou yawned and rubbed his eye as Keiji dragged him across the apartment to the ladder of his bed.

“I need my couch,” he mumbled for what had to have been the hundredth time since the two had met.

“But—”

“Up,” he commanded, pushing him to the ladder. “Go on. Before you pass out on my floor. I don’t think I can carry you up there.”

“I’ll just sleep on the floor.” Koutarou bent at the waist and Keiji grabbed his biceps, which were much harder than he anticipated- though it should have been obvious judging by their obvious girth and tone- and pushed him back into a standing position.

“Up.” He snapped his fingers and pointed at the bed.

Koutarou groaned and slowly climbed the ladder. He flopped onto the mattress and glared at him with his lone golden eye.

“I feel like a jerk,” he mumbled.

“You’re not a jerk.” Keiji climbed halfway up the ladder and pulled a blanket over him.

“We could just share. There’s room. I’m not even a blanket hog like Hajime is.”

“I’m fine on the couch.” Keiji fluffed the pillow under his head and then gently pulled the eyepatch off and set it down on the small wooden ledge jutting out from the side of the frame.

Koutarou rolled onto his back and yawned again. Keiji stared down at him silently for a moment and then asked,

“Weren’t you going to get a prosthetic?”

“ _Meh._ ”

“You don’t want one?”

“It’s a hassle. I’d have to take care of it. And be careful not to damage it. And would have to get it adjusted sometimes. Might as well just wear the patch. ‘S cooler anyhow.”

“Hmm…” Keiji ran his gaze over Koutarou’s scarred eyelid.

“’Kaashi, let’s just share. We can snuggle.”

“Good night, Bokuto,” Keiji climbed back down to the floor.

“G’night.”

Keiji went to the couch, where he had already thrown a comforter and several pillows. Lying over the back of the couch were his pajamas and he lifted them, glancing over his shoulder at the bed. Koutarou had rolled onto his side, back towards him, and a low snore was already rumbling through his body.

Keiji quickly dressed, tossing his worn clothes into pile off to the left side of the room. He crawled into his nest of pillows and blankets, placing the backrest behind him, pressing into the cushions, and let out a deep sigh. He dragged the comforter up over his shoulder, fluffed it around his head, and stared at the black television opposite him through a small slit in the fabric.

Koutarou probably wouldn’t notice if he turned it on. So long as he kept the volume low and turned the subtitles on. He could watch for a few hours and then turn it off.

Koutarou probably wouldn’t notice.

But he might.

Keiji’s eyes traveled across the apartment to where the curtain shrouded the far corner. He rubbed his lips together until they turned raw and chapped.

_He’ll notice._

_He’ll wake up._

_Just go to sleep, Keiji._

He forced his eyelids shut and inhaled deeply. He flexed and loosened his muscles, willing his body to relax, his mind to empty, and for sleep to take him.

But sleep didn’t come.

And he lay like that for hours, eyes burning against the darkness of the apartment, fingers picking and scratching at one another until he felt the wetness of blood seep under the nail of his pinky finger and he stuck it into his mouth with a wince.

It had only been a few hours.

He had only had to suffer it for a few hours.

But it had succeeded in knocking him back once more, two steps behind the one he had managed to take.

_It was only a few hours._

His mouth tasted of blood and the pulse in his throat thudded until nausea thickened the saliva in the back of his mouth. He removed his pinky and leaned forward, reaching towards the coffee table with a quivering hand. He grabbed his cell phone and sunk back into his comforter. He unlocked his screen but the harshness of the light stung his eyes and he closed them against it. After a few more tries, he deemed it impossible and tossed the phone to the side. He hugged a pillow to his chest and pressed his face into it.

_“When are you going to find a nice girl and settle down?”_

_“You're still studying History? When are you going to actually switch to a serious program?”_

_“Keiji-chan is so handsome and smart. It’s a shame about…”_

_“What a waste...”_

_“Poor Akaashi-san must be so embarrassed that…”_

“SNRRRK!”

Keiji jerked, eyes flying wide, hands coming up towards his face instinctively.

Sleepy laughter floated across the apartment and Keiji peeked meekly over the back of the couch.

“I snored myself awake,” Koutarou’s gravelly voice murmured and the vague shape of his body on the bed rolled in Keiji’s direction.

Keiji lay back and pressed a hand to his fluttering heart, willing it to slow its frenzied beat.

“Did I wake you up, ‘Kaashi?”

He swallowed and cleared his throat. “N-no. I was already awake…”

“Ehh… can’t you sleep?”

_Never._

“Is it the couch? See now I feel like a total jerk. Come up here.”

“No… it’s not the couch.”

“Then what is it? Ya hungry?”

“No…”

“Thirsty?”

“No.”

“Sick?”

_Always._

“No.”

Koutarou was silent for a long second and Keiji wondered momentarily if he had fallen back to sleep.

Then his voice, lower and raspier than before, spoke again.

“That reminds me of a story.”

Keiji stared at the ceiling, tracing the wooden beams with his eyes.

“One of my buddies has nightmares. Really bad ones. There were times back when they first started when he would be up for days, only getting one or two hours of sleep here and there. He tried sleeping pills and stuff that the doctors prescribed him but nothing worked. He’d still wake up screaming just a few minutes after falling asleep.”

Koutarou’s voice surrounded Keiji, smoothing the lines from his face and stilling his trembling fingers.

“It was starting to mess with his health. He got really paranoid. He started hallucinating. He was constantly on edge. He stabbed Tetsu in the thigh with a fork because he snuck up on him. He totally deserved it though. I don’t feel sorry for him at all. We all saw it coming too. None of us tried to stop it because Tetsu made us miss our bus that morning because he was hungover and bitched and moaned while we all packed up our stuff and he didn’t help at all so we were all honestly kind of _hoping_ he’d get stabbed.”

Keiji smiled.

“Anyway. We were getting worried. So we decided to call in back-up. Have you heard of those cat cafés and stuff? Where you get to play with a bunch of kitties? Well, we heard about something like that except it has huskies. You know. The dogs? It was all the way in Bangkok so we booked a flight and basically kidnapped him. We took him to the café and oh man. It was like an insta-cure, ‘Kaashi, lemme tell ya.”

He let out a laugh and went on,

“He had no idea what was happening. We just paid and dragged him inside and he was so confused and then this whole _pack of huskies_ came bounding up and he screamed. He literally screamed. And then started sobbing. And the huskies, it’s like they knew exactly who they were supposed to go to because they just _jumped_ on him and started licking him and jeez. It was the happiest I ever saw him. He just cried and cried and played with them for hours. They had to kick us out, eventually. Then, that night, he slept like he was dead. Didn’t wake up once until noon the next day.”

Keiji’s eyes slowly slid shut.

“It didn’t cure him forever, obviously. But at least we knew. When he got bad again, we knew exactly what to do to help him out. Maybe the same can go for you, ‘Kaashi. On nights where you can’t sleep… maybe there’s something, I dunno... some kind of magic cure... that—”

Keiji didn’t hear the rest of what he said, as he had drifted off into deep, restful slumber.

And he didn’t wake until noon the next day.

* * *

 

“I just wanted to make you some breakfast as thanks for letting me steal your bed.”

Keiji sighed and scooped the charred remains of eggs and sausage into the trashcan, which was already nearly overflowing from dozens of empty cup ramen and candy wrappers.

“It’s alright. I’m not mad. But… if you don’t know how to cook then my advice to you is to not touch the stove.”

“I looked away from it for five seconds,” Koutarou murmured dejectedly, staring down at his hands.

“It’s okay. I think those eggs were expired anyway.”

“I’ll take you to Denny’s. We can get a full meal. My treat.”

“Don’t worry about it, Bokuto. You don’t have to buy me breakfast. It’s past noon anyway.”

“Then lunch!”

Keiji carried the pan to the sink and set it inside, flipping on the faucet. He watched the pan fill with water, grabbing the bottle of dish soap from the counter and upturning it, adding to the mixture.

“You don’t have to treat me to anything,” he said. “Honestly, I’m not mad. It was a nice gesture and I appreciate your sentiment.” He turned towards him, “And anyway—”

His breath froze in his throat and his eyes widened. Terror gripped him as a shape caught his attention, dragging it across the apartment to where a man in a crimson hoodie slunk their direction.

_Who—_

_Intruder—_

_How—_

He lurched back against the counter, the hard edge slamming into the small of his back. Koutarou cocked his head to the side.

“’Kaashi? What’s—”

He didn’t get the rest of the question out as suddenly the stranger was on him, arm curling around his face, a white rag in his grasp. He covered Koutarou’s mouth and nose and his eye popped open wide. He shoved back, hands flying up towards the arm. The other man wore a wild grin as he tightened his grip. Koutarou writhed backwards and they both lost their footing, collapsing onto the floor.

Keiji lunged for a drawer, ripping it open and grabbing a large paring knife. His legs gave out and he slid to his knees, pushing back against the cabinets and holding the knife up and out.

Koutarou and the other man struggled on the floor for a few seconds before the fight fled Koutarou’s limbs and he fell limp in the man’s hold. Keiji pressed a hand over his mouth, biting down on his cheek to hold in a sob.

The man tossed his rag aside and crawled up and on top of Koutarou’s stomach. He snickered, low and maniacal and reached into his pocket. He pulled out a cell phone and dialed a number.

“Idiot number one has been captured,” he said into the phone, slow drawl dripping with amusement.

_Police._

_I need to call the police…_

Keiji’s eyes flitted across the apartment to where he had left his phone on the coffee table.

_I need to escape._

_And call for help._

He looked back to Koutarou and the stranger.

_But Bokuto…_

His hand quivered and the knife dipped.

The stranger plucked the eyepatch from Koutarou’s face and pried his eyelid open.

“ _Geh…_ he totally wasn’t lying. Grody.”

Something about the man’s casual posture gave Keiji pause.

The intruder reached into his other pocket and pulled out a thick, black, permanent marker. He uncapped it and leaned over Koutarou, promptly drawing a sloppy rectangular mustache on his upper lip.

Keiji slowly climbed to his feet, still holding the knife out. He examined the man closely, from the wild mess of black hair on his head, bangs shrouding half of his forehead and his right eye, to his lithe and long body, curled and hunched over like a panther's as he continued to vandalize Koutarou’s unconscious features.

Keiji swallowed the dry lump that had formed in his throat and then said, voice like sand,

“T-testicle?”

The man lifted his marker and turned. His narrow, slanted eyes found him and Keiji raised the knife again as new fear chilled his bones.

He smirked. “Ehh… he calls me that even to other people? I’m hurt.”

Keiji sucked in a deep breath. “You’re Bokuto’s friend. Tetsurou K-Kuroo.”

“Guilty.”

_How?_

_How did he get into my apartment?_

_Why is he here?_

_Why the fuck did he attack Bokuto?_

_Oh God my chest hurts._

_I'm going to throw up._

Keiji finally lowered the knife and pressed a hand to his heart, brow furrowing.

“I think I’m having a heart attack.”

Tetsurou stared at him silently for a long second and then chuckled. He reached down and flicked Koutarou in the center of the head.

“Don’t feel bad. He just kind of has that effect on people.”

Keiji gaped at him, collapsing onto his bottom and leaning against the cabinets once more.

Tetsurou grinned and leaned back, sliding the cap back onto the marker.

“I know. I know. It’s tragic, isn’t it? He’s absolutely hopeless.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For as long as this chapter took me to write, you'd think it'd be a little better quality, eh?  
> I honestly just didn't know what to write. So yeah. This is what I came up with.
> 
> Uhm... Kuroo needs a stern talking to about breaking and entering. And drugging people against their will. Seriously. I don't... how... like... where are his parents? And he calls Bokuto hopeless?
> 
> Sigh.
> 
> If you want to come yell at me about how you're disappointed in me for making Kuroo a menace to society and "that's not okay. He needs consent and that's dangerous and how dare you" then come hit me up on [Tumblr.](http://mooifyourecows.tumblr.com/) so that I can remind you that it's my story and I'll write it how I fuckin' want.
> 
> I LOVE YOU ALL THANK YOU FOR READING YOU ARE THE LIGHT OF MY LIFE THANK YOU FOR WAITING SO LONG AND STICKING WITH ME I'LL DO MY BEST WITH THE NEXT CHAPTER.
> 
> Next Time:  
> Keiji can't hold his liquor


	4. Unexpected

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Don't get used to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mood:  
> [Paranoia in B-Flat Major](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-4pjrmH967c)  
> "I got secrets from you,  
> You got secrets from me,  
> Because you're so worried about what I'm gonna think.  
> Baby I'm worried too."

“Well? What do you have to say for yourself?”

Keiji watched silently as Koutarou stood in front of the chair to which he had lashed Tetsurou with two leather belts. He crossed his arms over his chest and lifted his chin, glaring down at the man, who seemed completely unconcerned with his confinement and merely smirked back up at him.

“You broke into ‘Kaashi’s apartment, _assaulted me_ , and scared the crap out of him! I hope you’re ashamed of yourself!”

Tetsurou snickered low, undermining the seriousness of Koutarou’s tone.

“What’s so funny?” he snapped.

“Well… it’s just…” Tetsurou stretched his legs out in front of him and leaned his head back. “It’s kinda hard to take you seriously with the Hitler ‘stache.”

Koutarou reached up and rubbed at the black marker decorating his top lip.

“And the unibrow,” Tetsurou added.

Koutarou took a step forward and punched him across the face, leaving an instant red mark high on his left cheek.

Tetsurou laughed and leaned his head back, unfazed by the blow.

“ _Harder_.”

Koutarou punched him again and Keiji winced at the sound of the _crack_ that echoed through the apartment.

Tetsurou let out a whine. “Too hard!”

“You asked for it, Shit Fuck,” Koutarou said, shaking his hand out.

“Yeah but… _damn_.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

They were silent for a moment and then Tetsurou straightened.

“Oh, by the way. Dude…” His gaze darkened. “We have to do it.”

Koutarou paused. “Do…”

“You know.”

He stared down at his hand. “Oh.”

Keiji looked between them for a few seconds.

“Alright, let’s get on it then.” Koutarou leaned close and started loosening the belts tying Tetsurou down. “Time frame?”

“Saturday at the latest.”

“Shit… okay.”

The belts fell to the floor and Tetsurou stretched his arms over his head before standing. Koutarou collected the belts and rolled them up, turning to Keiji. The combination of the marker mustache and unibrow with the eye patch was truly laughable, but Keiji was still too shaken up from the earlier scare to even muster a smile.

“Sorry about all this, Akaashi.” Koutarou handed the belts over and Keiji took them with quivering hands. “I promise I’ll find a way to make it up to you, okay?”

“Uhm…”

“No time to talk,” Tetsurou said, walking to the door. “Bo! _Come!”_

“I’m coming!” Koutarou snapped. He smiled at Keiji. “I’ll see you later, okay?”

“Okay…”

“Come! Come! Come! Bo! Come!”

“Oh my god shut up!” Koutarou jogged off towards the front door. “I’m not a dog, you asshole!”

“So then how do you explain all the leg humping?”

The door closed on Koutarou’s booming laughter and Keiji was alone.

Alone was good.

He preferred it that way.

When he was alone, he could think without interruption. He could move around the apartment in the quiet way that he did and pick up the mess Koutarou had left behind, which, admittedly, wasn’t as big as Keiji’s, but Keiji’s mess was his own. It was familiar. An acceptable mess of ditched candy wrappers and wrinkled laundry in scattered piles on the floor that he would eventually haul down to the building’s laundry room far in the basement once he ran out of clothes in his closet. Keiji knew his mess. From the towering height of the trashcan that he would only empty when the garbage started tumbling to the floor, to the six shampoo and conditioner bottles in the shower that had been empty for a few months now but throwing them out proved more strenuous of a task than just pushing them to the side to make room for fresh bottles.

Keiji tolerated his mess. He knew how to live with and move around it, ensuring his maximum comfort and convenience. But he didn’t know this half empty glass of water perched at the very corner of the coffee table. He was unfamiliar with the pile of pillows just off the foot of his bed where Koutarou must have kicked them in his sleep. He didn’t know Koutarou’s mess and that kind of scared him.

A little.

Enough.

It scared him enough to spend the next twenty minutes erasing the evidence of Koutarou’s and Tetsurou’s presence from the apartment before collapsing on the couch with his cell phone clutched in both hands.

Now what?

He didn’t have work. His cupboards and refrigerator were stocked. He didn’t have any plans—

The phone vibrated in his hands and he stared at the image and name that lit up the screen.

He let out a sigh, contemplated ignoring it, but answered anyway.

“What’s up?”

“ _Hello Keiji,_ ” Tooru replied in that sickly sweet tone that was anything but happy. “ _I’m calling to remind you that tonight we will be having my party at Cheap Shot and you_ will _be there.”_

Keiji’s eyes closed and he sighed.

“Tooru… I don’t know. I know I said I’d go but yesterday really sucked and I just don’t think I’m up for partying…”

He dwindled out and was met with silence. The line had gone completely quiet, lacking even background noise. He gave it a few seconds before saying,

“Please stop badmouthing me on mute.”

When the silence didn’t let up, he rolled onto his back and sighed again.

“Alright. Fine. I’ll be there. But I’m not promising to stay long and I’m not playing any of those stupid bar games or buying you a gift—”

“ _I knew I could count on you, Keiji,”_ Tooru’s voice was back, laced with a smidgen of arrogance at getting what he wanted.

Keiji hummed and rubbed his eyes.

“ _Don’t be such a downer_ ,” Tooru scolded. “ _This party is to celebrate my accomplishments so you better be a fuckin’ ray of sunshine tonight and make me feel like a star.”_

“Yeah. I’ll do my best.”

“ _Ugh you sound_ so _enthused. This party is going to be a drag at this rate. Why don’t you invite that one guy? The fun, loud one with the good stories.”_

Keiji stared up at the ceiling. “Bokuto?”

“ _Yeah! He seems like a guy that knows how to party._ _Bring him with you tonight._ ”

Keiji fidgeted. “I don’t know…”

“ _C’mon, you two are friends right?”_

“Well… sort of? I don’t know. We haven’t even known each other for very long…”

“ _Bring him tonight! Get to know him better!_ ”

“I don’t know…”

“ _How many times are you going to say that? You don’t know until you do it. Consider it your gift to me._ ”

“How is that—”

“ _Because if he’s there, maybe you won’t be such a wet blanket?_ ”

“Doubtful. Moist bedding is about eighty percent of my personality.”

“ _Ew. Oh my god I can’t believe you just said that. You know what? Don’t come._ ”

Keiji smiled. “Alr—”

“ _No, I was kidding. You have to come. And bring your pirate friend. And while you’re at it, wear something slutty and put out. Seriously, your dry spell has turned into a drought.”_

Keiji groaned and draped an arm over his eyes, “No. I don’t want to get laid.”

“ _C’mon, Captain Owl Face is a total hottie. You should get with that while you can!”_

“No thank you.”

“ _Keiji that basement needs dusted—_ ”

“No thank you,” he said again.

Tooru clicked his tongue. “ _You never do anything fun._ ”

“That’s because it’s not fun for me.”

“ _Getting laid?_ ”

“Getting laid just because you tell me to.”

“ _How would you know if you’ve never done it before?_ ”

“Because _you_ are the one suggesting it and nothing fun ever comes from one of your suggestions,” Keiji’s voice dulled.

The line went silent.

He scrunched his nose. “Tooru. Stop.”

No reply.

“There’s no point putting me on mute when I _know_ that you’re dissing me.”

Still nothing.

“Okay alright _fine._ ” He rolled his head to the side. “I’ll invite Bokuto. But I’m not putting out. That’s my compromise.”

“ _Well, I suppose you can take it slow,_ ” Tooru said, voice back to that arrogant drawl. “ _Mark my words though, Keiji, I will find someone to rain all over that drought of yours someday.”_

“No thanks.”

“ _Can’t stop me! Okay see you tonight, don’t be late and bring Pirate Owl man with the big arms or else I’m making you play all the bar games! Bye!”_

The line went dead and Keiji dropped the phone on his chest and stared at the ceiling.

So there went his day off. To think that he actually allowed himself to be mildly excited over the possibility of staying in and being alone that night.

To think.

* * *

 

“I don’t know, isn’t it kind of disrespectful though?” Tetsurou rubbed his chin.

“I’ll tell you what’s disrespectful,” Koutarou snapped, handing a credit card over to the man across the counter. “Getting left in the fuckin’ Amazon.”

“Dude, _you’re_ the one that left _him._ ”

“Exactly. We’re already in it. So why would I give a shit about being disrespectful now?”

“I guess that’s a good point.”

Koutarou’s phone went off in his pocket and he stepped away from the counter to answer it.

“Hello!” he said cheerfully, earning a confused glance from the man behind the counter.

The line was silent at first and Koutarou hesitated, wondering if the call was dropped. He was about to check the screen when a soft voice mumbled,

“ _Hello Bokuto…_ ”

Koutarou brightened. “Akaashi! Hey! What’s up?”

Another pause.

“ _How are you?_ ”

Koutarou smiled and wandered across the room. “I’m good! Me and Tetsu are taking care of some business. Did you know that you guys have a lot of funeral homes in this city? Do people die here a lot or what?”

“… _funeral homes?_ ”

“Yeah! Weird, huh? Like, usually it’s McDonalds or something. You know, that a town has a lot of. One time I was in this city down south… uhh… I don’t remember where. But there was- and I’m not pulling your leg here- there was a Waffle House on every corner. It wasn’t even a big town but I swear to god there were like thirteen Waffle Houses. I ate so many waffles that weekend that my blood was syrup. One time I cut my finger and I put it in my mouth and no shit it tasted like Mrs. Butterworth’s.”

A huff of breath that sounded suspiciously like laughter- Koutarou was _sure_ it was a laugh- sounded through the phone and his smile widened.

Keiji cleared his throat to mask the laugh- and it was totally a laugh- and said, “ _So… Bokuto…_ ” He dwindled out momentarily and Koutarou cocked his head to the side and waited. Keiji sighed. “ _Are you… busy tonight?_ ”

Koutarou perked.

“Busy? Nope! Not busy! Why? Do you want to hang out?”

Keiji sighed again and his voice turned strained, “ _Well… my friend… Tooru. He has this… thing tonight. And told me to invite you along._ ”

“A thing?” Koutarou practically vibrated in excitement. “What kinda thing?”

“ _… a party._ ”

“ _Party?_ ” Koutarou turned towards Tetsurou and caught his curious stare. “I’ll be there! Can I bring Testicle?”

“ _Uhm… sure. Why not._ ”

Koutarou whooped and thrust a fist in the air. “Just tell me when and where and we will be there for sure!”

“… _okay. I’ll text you the details. Uhm… I’ll… I’ll uh see you then… then.”_

“Yeah! I’m stoked! See you later!”

He ended the call and turned to Tetsurou. “Bro! We’re going to a party tonight!”

“Sounds rad.” Tetsurou leaned his elbow on the counter and Koutarou joined him. The man behind it offered him his credit card, expression confused. The three men were silent for a moment before Koutarou asked,

“So… do you guys supply the hearse or do we get one at like… Enterprise?”

The man opened his mouth but Tetsurou interrupted,

“I was thinking we’d just grab an Uber and shove it in the trunk.”

Koutarou hummed.

“Yeah, okay let’s do that.” He smiled at the man behind the counter, who gaped at them in horror. “Thanks anyway, we got it covered!”

Koutarou and Tetsurou headed for the door.

“Do we have to buy flowers?” Koutarou asked.

“In lieu of flowers I got an open bar.”

“Ohh smart thinking!”

* * *

 

Keiji could feel Tooru’s glare the instant he entered the bar. His disapproval was so palpable that the holes he drilled into him practically stung.

“What the hell are you wearing?”

Keiji sighed and didn’t meet Tooru’s stare, instead heading straight for the counter to begin consuming the alcohol that would be his one and only retreat from the cruel reality that he was being forced to socialize.

“Keiji.” Tooru stomped after him. “What are you wearing? This is a party, not a late night trip to the gas station for box wine and a king sized Almond Joy.”

“Unfortunately,” Keiji muttered.

“I told you to wear something slutty!”

“And I told you I’m not putting out.”

“You don’t have to be asking for dick to not look like you still live in your parent’s garage and eat Cheese Whiz out of the can.”

“I prefer to eat it out of the jar with a spoon.”

“ _Ew._ ” Tooru tugged on a lock of Keiji’s hair and then started yanking on the hood of his wrinkled green sweater. “What’s under this?”

The bartender walked up to them and Keiji ignored his friend’s insistent pulling and ordered a drink.

“I’ll take an AMF and two shots of Jack on the side.”

Tooru grabbed the hem of the sweatshirt and hauled it up Keiji’s back.

“This better not be a graphic tee,” he hissed.

“It’s not _that_ graphic,” Keiji said dully. “Only one set of boobs—”

Tooru wrestled the hoodie up and over his head and then spun him in a circle. When he saw that his black v-neck was devoid of any nudity, and any pattern at all for that matter, he let out a deep sigh of relief.

“Well.” He plucked a piece of lint off of Keiji’s shoulder and flicked it away, nose scrunching. “It’s bland, but it’s better than _this_.” Tooru lifted the hoodie with a sneer.

“What do you have against my favorite hoodie?” He leaned his elbows on the counter.

“Literally everything. Especially the fact that you’ve had it since junior high.” Tooru lifted his nose in distaste and balled the fabric into a clump. “You’ll get this back later. Unless things go well between you and Pirate Owl Boy. Then, I’ll give it back tomorrow.”

“Whatever.”

Tooru turned and said over his shoulder, “Hurry up with your drinks. I’ll be over here with the others.”

Keiji watched him leave. So he had been there less than five minutes and already lost one article of clothing. Maybe he should have worn more layers.

The bartender returned with his drinks and Keiji downed the two shots immediately.

“Do you want to—“

“Open a tab,” Keiji interrupted, voice hoarse. “You’ll be seeing a lot of me tonight.”

The bartender smiled and tapped the counter. “You got it, Buddy.”

Keiji lifted his cocktail and made his way across the bar to where Tooru had disappeared. He spotted several familiar faces sitting or standing around a table in the far corner and made his way to it.

Tooru was bitching about his appearance to Daichi, June, and Kenma, and Keiji sucked on his straw. The alcohol couldn’t make it to his bloodstream fast enough.

“I mean, even Kenma wore something relatively nice!” Tooru gestured at the man, who ignored him and pulled his phone out of the pocket of his blazer.

“Can I leave yet?” he asked dully.

Tooru let out a loud gasp.

“Me too,” June said and yawned.

“No! What is wrong with you people? You just got here! This is supposed to be a party! Do you not care about me at all?”

Daichi chuckled. “We care about you. And we’re so proud of you. This novel is going to be a huge success, I can just feel it.”

Tooru’s lips pressed together and he lifted his trembling chin.

“ _Daichi you’re the only one who loves me!_ ” He leapt into the other man’s chest and Daichi caught him around the waist with a laugh. “ _You’re my only friend! I wouldn’t have been able to do it without you. Everyone else can get fucked!_ ” He squeezed him tight around the neck and June shifted to the side to avoid getting clocked with his elbow.

“Can I get fucked at _home_?” Kenma asked.

“ _No._ ”

“Ayyy, here’s the party people!”

An arm dropped around Keiji’s shoulders and he glanced up into his brother’s face as he smirked sleepily at the others.

“Here, Tooru, I bought you a gift.” He hoisted a rectangular box covered in bright pink wrapping paper with little unicorns and the words “ _It’s a Girl!”_ speckled over it.

Tooru released Daichi and turned in time to catch the gift as it was thrown to him.

“Ehh, don’t open it until you’re home though,” Issei said and picked at his teeth. “Unless you want everyone to see your new boyfriend.”

Tooru threw the box at him and he caught it and sent it flying right back.

“Don’t knock it ‘til you try it,” he scolded.

“Can I try it on _you_?”

“Oh my. How forward. Tooru, I thought you’d never ask.”

Keiji slurped from his cocktail.

Issei caught the straw in his mouth the second it left Keiji’s. He sucked the drink and then pulled back with an appreciative sound.

“Kei’s gettin’ it early. Respect.”

“The sooner I die, the sooner this party will be over.”

“That’s the spirit.”

“I hate every single one of you,” Tooru growled.

Another joined their group and instantly passed by Issei and Keiji to walk up to Tooru. He set the box on the table and Kiyoko hugged him in greeting.

“Congratulations on your accomplishments, Tooru,” she said.

Tooru hugged her back with a sniffle. “Kiyoko and Daichi are the only ones who truly love me…”

“Oh, I didn’t know this was a _pity_ party,” Issei said. “I would have brought my tiny violin.”

“Suck my ass.”

“Jesus, Tooru, do you really gotta proposition me in front of my own little sister and brother? They still think I’m a virgin.”

“Because you are.” June hooked her arm around Kiyoko’s and led her towards the counter. “C’mon, let’s get drinks Kiyo.”

Issei looked down at Keiji.

“I’m not a virgin.”

“Sure you’re not.” He downed the rest of his drink and set the glass on a nearby table.

“Heyyyyy!”

The exclamation drew the attention of the entire group. Koutarou jumped up and down from just inside the bar, waving his arms up above his head. Keiji ignored the flush of warmth that filled his chest at the sight of the other man.

It was probably just the alcohol anyway.

Koutarou and Tetsurou, who tagged along behind him, approached the group.

“Oh? Who is this interesting looking specimen?” Issei mused.

“Thanks for inviting us!” Koutarou said, eye finding Tooru. “Uhh, ‘Kaashi didn’t tell me what the party is for though. Birthday?”

Tooru turned a glare to Keiji, and he wished someone would put a new drink in his hand.

“Tooru’s new novel is getting published this week,” Daichi said. “So we are celebrating.”

“Whoa! You wrote a book? That’s awesome!” Koutarou’s eyebrows shot up his forehead. “Congrats! Hey, let me buy your drinks tonight!”

Tooru pressed a hand over his heart and let out a soft, “Ah…”

“Hey, no,” Tetsurou interrupted. “Don’t accept that. He’s gonna make me—”

“I accept,” Tooru said without hesitation.

Koutarou turned towards Tetsurou and slapped him, hard, on the back. “You heard the man, Testicle! That makes a third person you’ve gotta pay for tonight!”

Tetsurou clicked his tongue. “That’s foul play.”

“It’s what you deserve.” Koutarou turned to Keiji. “He’s paying for yours too, so drink as much as you want!”

Keiji frowned. “Why…”

“For scarin’ the crap out of you earlier, of course. Told you I’d make it up to you, didn’t I?”

“What happened earlier?” Issei looked down at Keiji. “Who are these fine gentlemen? Kei, are you keeping secrets from your dear big bro?”

Keiji made a face, but was saved from making the introductions when Koutarou happily announced his and Tetsurou’s names to the group.

Tooru introduced the others to Tetsurou, who replied with a small wave and a “Heyoo,” eyes lingering on Kenma, who ignored the exchange by staring at his phone.

“How do you know each other?” Issei looked between Keiji and Koutarou.

“He lets me crash at his place sometimes,” Koutarou said, eye wandering off towards the counter.

Issei’s arm tightened around Keiji’s shoulders and he winced.

“Lets you crash… in his bed?”

“Well he won’t let me sleep on the couch so—”

Keiji looked up into Issei’s face, stomach dropping with dread. His formerly sleepy, amused gaze had woken up and hardened, and followed Koutarou’s every movement closely.

“Stop,” he said under his breath. “It’s not like that.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” Issei replied equally low.

Keiji shrugged his arm off of him and turned. “I’m getting another drink.”

“I’ll come with!” Koutarou offered.

“Eager, huh?” Issei kept in step with the other man as all three headed for the counter.

“I’m parched!”

“ _Thirsty_ , huh?”

They reached the counter but the bartender was a short distance away, taking June’s and Kiyoko’s orders. Keiji turned to the others and leveled his brother with a dull stare.

“Bokuto,” he said, without taking his eyes off of Issei. “Please tell Issei that you’re not after my ass.”

“Ehh?”

They faced Koutarou, whose face flushed with color. “Yo-your… why… what are you talking about?”

Keiji crossed his arms over his chest. “My brother somehow has it in his head that the only reason why someone would be interested in hanging out with me is to get into my pants.”

Koutarou gaped at him.

“I guess this is as good of a time as any to let you know that I’m gay, and that’s why he thinks that way. Because obviously the only thing gays care about is sex—”

“Oh my god that’s not what I think,” Issei interrupted.

“Isn’t it?”

“Just said it’s not, didn’t I?”

Keiji turned away. His stomach churned uncomfortably. Maybe he shouldn’t drink after all. Alcohol made his mouth run, spilling information he would otherwise rather keep secret all the way to his grave.

“Don’t get me wrong,” Koutarou said but Keiji didn’t turn. “Akaashi is super attractive.”

Keiji’s face warmed and he gulped.

“But I’m not _after_ anything. We’re friends! He lets me crash at his place sometimes and that’s really nice because like, the bed at the motel I stay at is crazy uncomfortable. I do feel guilty that he keeps insisting that he sleep on the couch though. But now that I think about it, maybe he does that because his brother makes him feel like people ought to only be interested in sex when it comes to him and so sleeping on the couch instead of the bed is his defense mechanism against people thinking all he wants is to fuck them.”

Keiji pressed a hand over his mouth to capture his surprised snort.

“I don’t think it’s strange at all for someone to be interested in hanging out with Akaashi just as a friend.” Koutarou climbed onto the stool to Keiji’s left and smiled at him. The flush of embarrassment was gone, replaced by that bright warmth that Keiji had become accustomed to seeing on the man’s face. “So that's what I'll be! So long as he still wants me around, I mean."

Keiji fought to keep a smile at bay, only allowing the smallest of ticks to turn up the corner of his lips as he said, “Can’t seem to get rid of you, honestly.”

Koutarou laughed. “Harsh!”

Issei climbed onto the stool on the other side of Keiji and then leaned his shoulder quietly against his. He didn’t speak, but Keiji heard the apology loud and clear.

“Oh, actually that reminds me of a story,” Koutarou said, tapping his fingers cheerfully on the counter. “So I have this friend who has a totally crappy family who thinks it’s impossible for guys and girls to be friends without there being something sexual going on. Real old fashioned and religious and stuff.”

Issei and Keiji watched him silently as he spoke.

“Seriously all they even care about is her getting married and having kids and being a traditional housewife. It sucks! Because that’s the _last_ thing she even wants to be, you know? But anyway, her parents decided it’d be a great idea to take her love life into their own hands and set her up with this total sexist douchebag. Oh my god I haaaaate this guy, okay? He’s a huge loser! Real garbage human, honestly. So naturally, none of us approved of that bastard even getting close to her.”

Keiji’s chest warmed and he leaned his chin in the palm of his hand.

Koutarou turned a bright golden eye on him. “So her parents set up this date for them at this restaurant and like, they totally had the audacity to not even give them a curfew? She was only fifteen! And this dude was our age, so a couple years older than her. In fact, I think he was eighteen already so you know… _that’s illegal._ But anyway…” He huffed. “We didn’t trust the dude to be alone with her so me, Tetsu, and Koushi all went to the restaurant too in order to keep an eye on them, make sure he doesn’t do any shady shit. Can you guess what happened?”

“Shady shit?” Issei asked.

“Totally some shady shit!” Koutarou clicked his tongue in distaste. “The dude ordered her meal for her! Who the fuck does that? Seriously? He got her a fucking _salad_ , and listen, I’ve seen this girl eat. We took her to a buffet on her twenty-first birthday and she got drunk off of margaritas and ate all of the ham, half a pizza, two plates of pasta, six egg rolls, three ice cream cones, a slice of cheesecake, four macaroons, a cupcake, and a bowl of banana pudding.” He snapped his fingers. “Girl—” _Snap_. “Can—” _Snap_. “ _Eat._ ” _Snap_.

Keiji chewed on his bottom lip, holding back his amusement.

“So he got her a salad, first of all, then—”

The bartender interrupted the story and the three quickly ordered their drinks so Koutarou could continue.

“Then, the whole time, he talks about _himself_. Doesn’t even let her talk at _all_.” Koutarou groaned. “We were sitting in the booth right next to them so we could hear everything. Every time she tried to say something, he would cut her off, it was so _annoying_. I had to sit on Koushi to keep him from jumping over the booth and stabbing him in the throat with a fork.”

“Please never introduce us,” Keiji said.

“Haha! He’s not as bad as he sounds, I swear! But anyway… so whatever. We played it cool for a bit because, yeah he was a jerk but we promised we wouldn’t interfere until we really needed to.”

“And I’m guessing you needed to eventually?” Issei asked.

“Yup. As the date ended, we followed them secretly out of the restaurant and to the dude’s car. It was fine, all good… until he put his hand on her.”

“Uh oh,” Issei sang under his breath.

Koutarou hummed and took the tall glass of beer that the bartender handed to him. “We had it all planned out, you know? If shit hit the fan, Koushi was supposed to get her to safety, since he already had two strikes and couldn’t risk expulsion or else Hajime would probably desert the military to come kill him with his own bare hands. Then I was in charge of disciplining the dude, and Tetsu got free range over his belongings. His car and such. Well… it didn’t quite work out that way.”

Keiji received his second AMF from the bartender and sipped it quietly, mind racing over all of the ways the situation could have played out, knowing who it was that starred in the flashback.

“Anyway,” Koutarou went on after taking a long gulp from the beer. “Dude put hands on our friend. She asked him to not touch her. He didn’t listen. So we commenced the rescue plan. Only... Koushi was a little butthurt over his job assignment, so when he ran in and threw our friend over his shoulder, he also kicked the dude in the nuts and spat in his eyes. And I felt like I didn’t really have a job anymore because _I_ was supposed to be the one to hurt him, you know? So while Tetsu went to town carving out the side of his car with his pocket knife and Koushi ran off with our friend, I kinda just…” he dwindled out. “Well… he was blinded by the spit, right? So I may or may not have just stood there and shouted at him that we were kidnappers and were running off with his girl and were going to murder her and scatter her body parts in the river and there was nothing he could do about it.”

Keiji and Issei stared at him quietly for a moment.

“Why the fuck would you do that?” Issei finally asked.

“Uhh… I guess I wanted to scare him?” Koutarou shrugged. “It was kind of a heat of the moment thing. We had just watched _Taken_ the night before, you know, the Liam Neeson movie? So I was channeling some bad guy rage there I suppose. Anyway, we bailed after that and took our friend to another restaurant to get her a real food and some ice cream, then went back to Koushi’s and played Mario Kart all night. The worst part though?” Koutarou scrunched his nose in disgust. “Her parents didn’t even call to ask where she was. And the dude? Didn’t even call the cops. Just went home. We could have totally been kidnappers and sex traders and yet this absolute cock odor didn’t do _shit_.”

“Wow…” Issei said. “What the fuck.”

Koutarou shrugged. “Yeah well, it’s cool. He’s dead now so…”

Keiji’s eyes widened.

Koutarou noticed the shock and quickly elaborated, “Oh, we didn’t kill him or anything! He died on his own. Uhhh drunk driving I think. Or some sort of inebriated driving.”

“Jesus,” Keiji murmured.

“Heh, I guess I coulda left that part out of the story, huh?”

“Honestly I’m a little curious why you told that story at all,” Issei said, sucking on the straw of his drink.

“Hm?”

“You said, _that reminds me of a story_.” Issei cocked a thick eyebrow. “How?”

“Oh…” Koutarou pursed his lips, glancing between him and Keiji. “Well… the protective big brother thing, I guess. It was probably really unnecessary for me to make it seem like we were gonna kidnap and murder our friend just to scare that dude and teach him a lesson… just like it’s probably really unnecessary for you to think every guy that your brother befriends is just gonna try to take advantage of him?” He shrugged and hopped off of his stool. “Dunno, I forget! Ohhh, hey ‘Kaashi, let’s play pool!”

Koutarou bounded cheerfully across the bar. Keiji and Issei lingered behind, watching as he bumped into and immediately apologized to a woman in a yellow dress. He instantly struck up a conversation with her, pointing out the gleaming diamond ring on her left hand with an expression of awe and excitement.

“Ya know…” Issei mumbled. “I think maybe I could learn from him.”

Keiji let out a snort of partial disbelief and partial amusement. “Learn _what_ from him?”

Issei brought his hand to the back of his head and gently ruffled his hair.

“Nothin’. C’mon, be my partner in pool?”

Keiji’s nose scrunched. “No. No way. I told Tooru I wasn’t going to be playing any stupid bar games.”

“Oh c’mon. It’s just one round of pool.”

“It’s not just one round of pool,” Keiji denied. “It’s never _just one round_ of pool. It’s one game of pool and then a game of Never Have I Ever and then six games of darts and four games of beer pong and the next thing I know I'm passed out on the floor—”

Issei’s arm slid around his shoulders and he hauled him off in the direction Koutarou had gone. “Well not this time. Just one game of pool and that’s all. I promise. Just trust your brother for once, alright?”

* * *

 

“Give it up, Keiji. There’s no way you’re going to make it.”

Keiji didn’t react to Tooru’s taunts across the table, holding the ping pong ball up as his vision unfocused and tilted.

“Don’t listen to him, ‘Kaashi!” Koutarou cheered from his side. “You can do it! Channel your inner LeBron James!”

Keiji hesitated, hazy stare shifting towards the other man. “’S he good at beer pong?” he slurred.

“Huh?”

“LeBron James,” Keiji repeated, chest popping with a hiccup. “’S he a good beer ponger?”

“Uh, I don’t know,” Koutarou admitted, blinking his lone eye slowly. “But he’s a good basketball player right?”

“But is he good at beer pong? Because if I… if I’m gonna be channel…ing somebody- _hicc-_ I want it to a good beer ponger…”

“Hold on,” Koutarou lifted a hand and pulled his phone from his pocket. “Let me Google it real quick.”

“’Kay.”

Groans erupted from the other end of the table.

“Just _throw it_!” Tetsurou demanded. “I’ve got grey hairs waiting on your asses!”

Koutarou leaned against Keiji’s shoulder, arm circling his waist. “Why are the grey hairs on our asses waiting for you?”

Keiji sputtered, slapping a hand over his mouth to catch the sound. Koutarou tightened his hold around him and laughed, chest giddy and light with triumph. Yeah, it was obvious that Keiji was drunk, and that might be the sole reason why he couldn’t seem to stop finding everything Koutarou said outrageously amusing, but he was going to count it as a win anyway. Each time Keiji caved and rewarded his efforts with a barely stifled laugh or a snort and curled lips and crinkled eyes, Koutarou felt an immediate wave of invigoration.

“Throw it or I’m going over there and shoving that ball up your asshole, Keiji,” Tooru growled.

“I hope you brought some lube,” Keiji slurred, leaning the heel of his empty hand on the table. “Not all of us have a fuckin’ stick up our asses keepin’ us nice and loose at all times.”

“That’s it.” Tooru rounded the table and Keiji hurriedly lifted the ping pong ball and threw it. It landed directly in a glass at Tetsurou’s left hip with a muffled _plop_.

“YEAH!” Koutarou bellowed and caught Keiji around the middle. He lifted him into the air and twirled him in circles.

Keiji laughed, the first full chested laugh of the night, and placed his hands on Koutarou’s shoulders to steady himself.

“You did it!” Koutarou whooped, grinning up into his face. “You channeled your inner Michael Jordan!”

Keiji smiled down at him and Koutarou was momentarily rendered speechless and breathless at the soft crinkle of his eyes, the rosy flush of his cheeks, and the happy curve of his lips.

“Wasn’t it Dennis Rodman?”

“Oh shit, was it?” Koutarou tightened his hold around his waist, suddenly aware of how much he liked the feeling of his weight and warmth.

“Ugh!” Tooru drew their attention to where he rejoined Kuroo on the other side of the table. Koutarou allowed Keiji to slide back down to the floor as they both watched Tooru turn towards Tetsurou with narrow eyes and sneered, “Your turn, Jackass.”

“Why are you mad at _me_?” Tetsurou lifted the glass and winced, watching the ping pong ball bob in the golden liquid inside. “They’re the ones that did it.”

“I would never lose if Daichi was my partner.”

“Then you shoulda asked Daichi to be your partner.” Tetsurou raised the glass to his lips, not even bothering to pluck the ball out before upturning the liquid into his mouth.

“He’s no fun when June is around.” Tooru clicked his tongue and crossed his arms over his chest.

Keiji cupped his mouth with his hands and shouted across the bar, “ _Hey June. Tooru is dissing you—_ ”

Tooru shushed him hurriedly, slapping his hands on the table. “Stop! Do you want her to kick my ass?”

“Kinda.” Keiji hiccupped.

Koutarou laughed. “Who’s June?”

Tooru scrunched his nose and Tetsurou fished the ping pong ball from his glass, wiping it on the front of his shirt with a belch.

“’M sister,” Keiji answered and leaned the heels of his hands on the table. “Daichi’s fiancée.”

“Whoa, they’re getting married?” Koutarou perked.

“Probably not.”

“Huh?”

Keiji hiccupped again. “Nothing. C’mon, _Testicle_. Throw the ball already.”

“I’m goin’!” Tetsurou snapped and lifted the ball.

“Hey Lesbians.” Issei walked up to the table, holding a half empty glass of beer. “Who’s winning?”

Tetsurou tossed the ball and it plopped into a glass directly in front of Keiji.

“We’re tied,” Tooru said, a triumphant smile curling his lips as he lifted his chin. “Drink up, Keiji,” he cooed sweetly.

Keiji groaned and grabbed the glass, nearly spilling over the table. Koutarou moved closer, hand out in case he needed to take it from him.

“Uh oh,” Issei hummed. “Looks like Kei is about to forfeit.”

“’M _not_ ,” Keiji slurred.

“You pre-gamed too hard.”

“You… you pre- _cummed_ too hard, _Dipshit_.”

“He’s dead. He’s totally dead. I’m not carrying him home.” Issei sipped his beer and then lowered it. “One, two, three, _nosies._ ” He pressed a finger to his nose. Tooru and Tetsurou quickly followed suit, leaving Koutarou blinking at them in confusion.

“That leaves Bo!” Tetsurou said cheerfully.

“What are you talking about?” Koutarou asked.

“Oh, haven’t you heard?” Issei smirked.

Keiji lifted the glass to his lips and chugged the liquid. As soon as it was gone, leaving nothing but the ping pong ball rolling inside, he slammed it down on the table, swayed, and plummeted to the floor with a crash, sending a wooden chair sliding and then toppling a few feet away.

“Kei can’t hold his liquor,” Issei finished with a dark chuckle.

“Shit.” Koutarou knelt at Keiji’s side and touched his shoulder. “’Kaashi, you okay?”

Keiji didn’t reply. His eyes were closed, lips parted.

“Akaashi?”

“Yeah, he’s dead,” Issei repeated. “Probably won’t wake up until tomorrow. Looks like you two lost.”

Koutarou frowned and pushed a lock of curly black hair from Keiji’s forehead. “Is he gonna be okay? Should we take him to the hospital?”

“ _We?_ ” Tooru snorted. “You’re the one who lost nosies. _You_ take him.”

“He doesn’t need the hospital,” Issei said with a shrug. “That’s just how he is. He hits his limit and passes out because he’s a weak bitch.”

“Can I draw on his face?” Tetsurou pulled a black marker from his jacket pocket, eyes glittering with excitement.

“Do it and I’ll kick your ass,” Koutarou warned.

“Boo.”

“Either way, we win,” Tooru said triumphantly.

“No way, it’s a tie!” Koutarou argued.

“Yeah but your teammate forfeited,” Tetsurou pointed out. “Unless you wanna play the rest of the game two to one?”

Koutarou looked back down at Keiji.

“You can just leave him there,” Tooru said. “People will walk around him. Probably.”

Koutarou gently gathered Keiji into his arms and stood. “Nah, I’ll take him home.”

“That settles it,” Tooru sang. “We win!”

He and Tetsurou high-fived and Koutarou scowled. It almost physically pained him to abandon the game now and give the others the win, but he couldn’t just leave Keiji there. Especially not with that slightly uncomfortable feeling lingering in his gut. Because it seemed… strange, didn’t it?

Koutarou hadn’t known Keiji for long yet but it felt strange. Out of character, maybe. It had been fun, sure, but drinking to the point of passing out, being loose with his emotions and partaking in all the games they had played that night…

It felt strange.

Didn’t feel right.

Like maybe it was all for the wrong reason, or for no reason at all.

And Koutarou didn’t like the thought of Keiji doing anything for any reason other than the right reason, because he wanted to, because he ought to.

“What a gentleman,” Tooru said.

“A total babe,” Tetsurou added. “Even if he _is_ a _loser_.”

“Hey Testicle, don’t forget to pick up our tabs before you leave,” Koutarou said with a smirk.

“Oh fuck you.”

Koutarou glanced at Issei. “You’re okay with me taking him home?”

“Should I not be?” He cocked a thick eyebrow.

“Well you basically thought I was a sexual molester earlier so…”

“Yeah but that was before I started drinking and stopped caring.” He sipped his beer.

“Wow.”

“Yeah.”

“Brother of the year.”

“You know it.”

“Okay then…” Koutarou looked around. “I guess we will leave?”

“Bye, thanks for coming,” Tooru waved and fetched the ping pong ball from Keiji’s cup. “Tetsurou, let’s finish the game just you and me.”

“You’re on!”

Koutarou turned and carried Keiji to where he had left his jacket in a booth where Kenma sat with Daichi.

“Uh oh,” Daichi said when they drew near. “Drank too much, huh?”

“Yeah he’s totally out,” Koutarou said and gently placed him down on the booth seat. “I’m gonna take him home. Did he have a jacket?”

“Tooru is holding it hostage.” Kenma sucked on a straw, eyeing Keiji warily.

“Oh, I guess I’ll give him mine then.” Koutarou grabbed his cargo jacket and maneuvered it onto Keiji’s arms, popping the collar around his neck. He found the apartment keys in the front pocket of his jeans and shoved them into his own before turning and pulling the sleeping man onto his back. He hauled him up from under his thighs and stood, bouncing him higher until he leaned comfortably against him, arms hanging limp over his shoulders, face buried against the back of his neck.

“Want me to call an Uber?” Daichi asked, brows furrowing slightly.

“Nah! It’s not too far of a walk!” Koutarou grinned. “The fresh air will be nice and maybe I can work off some of the alcohol.”

“Well alright… get home safe.”

“I will! Have fun!”

Koutarou carried Keiji across the bar to the front door and pushed it open with his foot. The night air was cool and felt good on his skin, peppering it momentarily with a brush of goosebumps. He inhaled deeply, allowing the crisp oxygen to clear some of the alcohol from his mind, and then turned in the direction of Keiji’s apartment.

He had it practically memorized at this point. It was the one place in this city that he didn’t just accidentally stumble upon, finding something to do or someone to meet by pure chance.

It was the only place to where he really, consciously, found himself wanting to go.

A few blocks later, Keiji began to stir from his spot on Koutarou’s back. Koutarou perked, waiting to see if he was merely shifting in his sleep or was actually coming to.

A moan warmed the nape of his neck and Keiji’s arms slid back until his fingers gripped at Koutarou’s shoulders.

“You okay, Akaashi?” Koutarou asked.

Keiji didn’t answer, but Koutarou could hear the way his tongue smacked on the inside of his mouth, as if seeking moisture that didn’t exist.

“Thirsty?”

Keiji hummed.

“We’re almost home, so just survive until then and I’ll get you some water, okay?”

Keiji’s arms curled down over his collar and he sighed. Koutarou wondered if maybe he was still asleep after all until his voice started softly singing under his breath. Koutarou remained silent, trying to listen closer to the light melody he mumbled against the back of his neck. It took him a moment to realize that the barely audible words weren’t in English.

“’Kaashi, you speak Japanese?”

Keiji’s voice dwindled out before suddenly coming back, louder, surprising a slight hop out of Koutarou. Keiji kicked his legs back and forth, threatening to throw off Koutarou’s balance, and he wrapped his arms around his neck and leaned his chin over, cheek to Koutarou’s ear.

His singing died out once more and he hummed.

Koutarou lowered his eye to the sidewalk moving beneath his shoes, new goosebumps spreading over his skin at the tickling sensation of the hot breath on the side of his neck.

Keiji sighed.

“Tell me a story,” he mumbled.

Koutarou didn’t answer at first.

“What kind of story do you want to hear?”

Keiji’s arms tightened.

“Something warm…”

Koutarou smiled. “Okay… so. One time, it was almost Christmas. And due to some… unfortunate, unforeseen, and unavoidable circumstances… I wound up in the hospital in Sydney. It totally wasn’t my fault though.”

Keiji grunted.

“But anyway. I was planning on flying home for the holidays, you know? Well, not _home_. The guys were in Greece so I was going to meet them there. I had my plane ticket bought and everything. Buuuuut ya know. Ruptured spleens are no joke.”

Keiji groaned.

“So I missed my flight to have surgery, right? Before I went in, I called Hajime to let him know I wasn’t gonna make it, so they could go ahead and party without me. I was super disappointed. And in pain. Haha… ‘cause you know, Christmas was the one holiday that we always managed to spend together, no matter where we were. Our schedules always just… worked out. We constantly missed birthdays and every other event you could think of. But Christmas?” He hesitated. “Christmas was the best.”

He lifted his eye to the sky, dark between streetlights as he passed underneath.

“So anyway, I go in for surgery, depressed as fuck. I was really hating myself for being the jackass who broke Christmas. Ruined it. And all because I totally thought I could beat that kangaroo in a fist fight.”

Keiji groaned again and Koutarou laughed.

“It wasn’t my fault! I was drunk!”

Keiji hummed in what sounded like disagreement and Koutarou continued his story.

“I don’t know how long I was out for the surgery. I wanted to leave immediately and get a new flight out of there so I could at least get to Greece late, you know? But they wouldn’t let me. Said I had to stay a few days. It sucked. I’ve been alone a lot. I’m always traveling by myself and sometimes I’m halfway around the world away from everyone I know. I’m used to that. But… it was different this time. It was the first time I really felt _lonely._ Stuck in a hospital in a country I didn’t know shit about, with only nurses and doctors for company on my favorite holiday... I was really lonely.”

Keiji turned his head until his cold nose pressed against the shell of Koutarou’s ear.

“So I spent most of my time sleeping after the surgery, on and off. The surgery was on Christmas Eve and I wasn’t able to really stay conscious until Christmas Day. I remember it was around dinner time, I was in bed, watching TV. It was some Christmas special that I wasn’t really paying all that much attention to because I was too sad. Next thing I know, my door _slams_ open and Testu, Koushi, Hajime, Hiro… _everyone_ just barges in. Koushi was dressed as Santa in shorts and thongs—”

“Thongs,” Keiji murmured.

Koutarou laughed. “Flip flops! He had this big bushy fake beard and a giant red sack over his shoulder. Hajime was dressed like an elf and man he looked like he wanted to kill himself, I swear. I was so surprised, I thought I was hallucinating or something. Or maybe I died and heaven was spending Christmas with all my buddies…” He smiled. “But anyway… after I got done crying… heh… the nurses said I was okay to get up and move around so we all went to the hospital lobby. It was completely decked out in Christmas decorations and stuff so it really felt like our usual celebration you know? We made gingerbread houses and everyone exchanged gifts and we played board games and ate good food and Hajime brought a cake and cocoa even though it was hot as balls outside. It was the best…” Koutarou’s chest warmed at the memory. “I was so happy. I didn’t break Christmas. It wasn’t ruined. The nurses let us hang out there all night and didn’t kick them out. And the next day, I got released and we all went to the beach and made sandmen. I wasn’t allowed to swim or get too rowdy and I was super sore, but it was still fun. I was disappointed we didn’t get to fuck around in the snow but I was happy. It was a good Christmas. Maybe the best.”

Keiji released a huff of air against his skin.

“You got in a fist fight with a kangaroo.”

“He _started_ it!”

“How.”

“Well, I was just minding my own business and he just jumped outta nowhere and was ready to square up and hey, I’m a better puncher than runner so you know… shit got outta hand.”

His eye drifted down the street. He could see the parking lot of Keiji’s apartment up ahead.

“You have good friends,” Keiji whispered.

Koutarou smiled. “Yeah. I do.”

“They should worry about you more though.”

Koutarou crossed the parking lot. “Nah, they don’t need to do that…”

“They should.”

“I’m okay. Yeah I find myself in some rough situations sometimes but—”

“Everyone needs someone to look out for them. Even if you think it’s not a big deal… ’s a big deal. Should be a big deal.”

“I’m used to it—”

“You shouldn’t be.”

Koutarou fell silent.

Keiji’s voice was dwindling, but Koutarou held on to every word breathed against the skin behind his ear.

“Shouldn’t get used to hurt- to being alone. If you get used to it, you stop tryin’ to change it. Then you’re stuck. Stuck alone with the hurt. And people think you’re fine because that’s jus’ how it’s always been. But being used to your skin breaking doesn’t mean you aren’t still left with a scar.”

Koutarou’s footsteps slowed as he neared the apartment.

“Shouldn’t get used to it,” Keiji finished with a soft sigh.

Koutarou paused outside of the door. He stared at the wood silently for a moment before releasing one of Keiji’s legs in order to pull it open. They didn’t speak as he crossed the lobby to the stairs and then carried him slowly to his floor. Once he got the door wrestled open, he carried Keiji into his apartment, allowing the door to click shut behind. He went to the bed and climbed the ladder unsteadily. At the top, he maneuvered around shakily and then dropped onto his side on the mattress. Keiji’s legs fell away from him and he lethargically pulled his arms off and rolled onto his back with a moan.

Koutarou sat on the edge of the bunk bed and reached for Keiji’s shoes. He tossed them to the floor and made to remove the cargo jacket, but Keiji was curling up, hugging the fabric to his chest as he buried his face in his pillow, curls hiding his closed eyes.

Koutarou swallowed. He took the comforter and pulled it up and over his body, tucking it under his chin.

“Water?” he asked in a soft voice.

Keiji didn’t reply.

Asleep.

Koutarou smiled and arranged Keiji’s numerous pillows around his body, cocooning him in the plush cushions as if it could keep the inevitable hangover at bay. He tenderly stroked his hair back from his face.

“You know…” he mumbled. “Maybe you’re right.”

He watched him for a few more moments before nabbing one of the pillows and hopping down to the floor. He tossed the pillow to the couch and kicked his sneakers off with a yawn. He locked the door and stretched his arms over his head, groaning when his joints popped. His gaze drifted across the apartment, a fond feeling spreading through him at the familiar sight and smell. Then his lone eye settled on the far corner and he stilled.

The curtain that had always been drawn was left open.

“… _Whoa._ ”

That was... unexpected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy crap does anyone remember this story?  
> I don't.  
> Sorry for the long, super long, almost a year long, wait.......... (im trash sorry)  
> There was supposed to be one more scene at the end of this chapter but I got too exhausted to write it and so just kinda... chopped it off. My bad.
> 
> Next Time:  
> Four Idiots and a Funeral


	5. Rowdy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stay far, far away

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mood:  
> [Jungle](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rSMY2CVjCZA)  
> "Well it's too long living in the same old lives,  
> I feel too cold to live, too young to die,  
> Will you walk the line, like it's there to choose?  
> Just forget the wit, it's the best to use"

There were several reasons why Keiji had never made a habit out of drinking.

For starters, he didn’t like how honest and unhinged he became. Nothing good ever came from wearing his emotions and thoughts on his sleeve, from talking too much, too loud, and too intimately. It only left him open to rejection.

To ridicule.

After all, no one wanted to hear the real Keiji.

No one wanted to _see_ the real Keiji.

The second reason he tended to shy away from the prospect of intoxication was this.

The aftermath.

Keiji pressed his lips tight together, resisting the urge to swallow, knowing that the motion might trigger the bile loitering in the back of his throat. His eyes ached before he even opened them and there was an intense, pounding pain thumping through his skull.

His hand shook as he lifted it to his mouth, pressing it over his lips. He silently begged the churning of his stomach to settle- _please, please, please I’m sorry just go away please-_ and tried not to move a single inch.

He stayed in a curled and tense position, attempting to wish his hangover away with pure power of will for long minutes. It wasn’t until he heard the huff of breath, the scratching of a page turning, and the rustling of cloth, that he finally forced his eyes open.

Keiji pushed up on one elbow, stinging gaze searching for the source of the sound. First he saw the socked feet, dangling over the arm rest of the couch. Then a flick of white hair just barely poking above from the opposite end. Keiji struggled into a sitting position, fear spiking at the flip of his stomach. As he straightened, more of Koutarou’s lounging form slid into view. His lone golden eye was open wide, the eyepatch secured over his other. He was dressed as he had been the night before and in his hand he held…

“No…” Keiji choked the word out. “No, no, no, no…” He clumsily swung his legs over the ladder and clattered down to the floor.

Koutarou perked at the sound, sitting up and peering over the back of the couch.

“You’re awake! How do you feel?”

“ _What are you doing_?” Keiji stumbled across the apartment in his direction, legs weak and sore. He rounded the couch and quickly grabbed the book out of Koutarou’s hand. He turned and stared in horror at the coffee table. Stacks of manga volumes covered the surface. Keiji jerked his eyes to the far corner of the apartment.

“No, no, no…” Keiji gathered up an armful of manga and staggered towards the bookshelf nestled in the corner. He shoved the books back onto the shelves, accidentally knocking over a figurine of a green haired man in a feathered coat.

“’Kaashi? Are you okay?” Koutarou asked and Keiji whirled back towards him.

“What are you doing?” His voice broke and moisture filled his eyes.

Koutarou blinked at him, brows furrowing. “I’m sorry… I… well, the curtain was open and I just got curious and—”

“ _Get out_.” Keiji stumbled back to the table and shakily grabbed for more of the manga, stuffing them against his chest as he struggled to keep the brimming tears at bay.

“Sorry, I didn’t realize that you would get so upset—”

“Go,” Keiji demanded. “Just leave.”

Koutarou didn’t move.

“Just fucking…” Keiji squeezed his eyes shut. “ _Get out_.” He turned to carry his new load to the bookcase, but his stomach finally decided it had had enough and he quickly dumped the books on the floor and bolted for the bathroom. He made it just in time to throw the lid of the toilet open before the vomit made its escape.

He didn’t know how long the torture of throwing up the night’s terrible mistakes lasted, but it felt like hours. By the time his stomach was thoroughly emptied, his back was aching from kneeling stooped over the toilet bowl. He flushed with a groan and collapsed onto his side on the cool tile floor.

Soft footsteps approached him and he wanted to yell at Koutarou to leave again, but couldn’t find the energy to muster anything more than an unhappy moan.

Koutarou knelt beside him and slid his arms underneath his body.

Keiji growled and pushed at him but didn’t have the strength to keep him from lifting him to his chest and standing.

As Koutarou carried him from the bathroom, Keiji gritted out a rough, “Just leave already…”

“I would,” Koutarou said, voice low. “Normally you’d only have to tell me once and I’d be gone.”

“Then go—”

“But I don’t think I should leave you alone when you’re like this.”

Keiji swallowed and squeezed his eyes shut.

Koutarou set him down on the couch and he curled into a ball, leaned his head on the back of the couch, and hugged his legs to his chest. Koutarou left for a moment and then returned, gently prying one of Keiji’s arms away from his legs and pressing a cool glass to his palm.

Keiji wanted to tell him to fuck off, to get out, to leave him alone… but his thirst was stronger than his anger at the moment. He raised the glass to his lips and gulped the chilled water down with the desperation of a man lost in a desert.

Koutarou sat on the coffee table and watched him quietly. When the glass was empty, he took it and filled it once more. Keiji choked the liquid down, washing the sharp acidic taste of vomit from his mouth.

Koutarou waited until he finished the second glass and rested his forehead on his knees before he spoke again.

“I’m really sorry, ‘Kaashi.”

Keiji gulped and didn’t move, clutching the glass in both hands between his chest and thighs.

“I shouldn’t have looked at your stuff. It was rude and disrespectful. Can you forgive me?”

Again, he didn’t answer.

“Can I… can I ask why you don’t want anyone to see that stuff though?”

Keiji lifted his head but didn’t look at him, instead staring across the room at the bookcase and mess of books and figurines, posters and framed art and merch.

“How cliché,” he choked out, voice wet and rough. “The fucking Japanese guy liking anime and manga. Like a walking fucking stereotype. I’ll bet he has a dakimakura or six and thinks his waifu counts as a real relationship. What a fucking loser.”

Koutarou reached over and took the glass from his hands.

“What’s wrong with liking this stuff? It’s kinda like your culture—”

Keiji scoffed, “ _Culture_.”

“Isn’t it?”

Keiji glared at him. His head was cocked curiously to the side. Not understanding- he could _never_ understand.

“It’s not culture,” Keiji muttered. “Even in Japan, people who like this stuff are considered weird.”

“But it’s just fiction?”

“It’s not just fiction. Just fiction is _Django Unchained_ and _Game of Thrones,_ which are things that no one will give you any trouble for liking. This isn’t fiction. It’s an adult being obsessed with weird, stupid, _cartoons_ from a foreign country—”

Koutarou leaned forward and flicked Keiji in the center of the forehead, cutting his words short. He blinked at him in shock.

Koutarou frowned. “You like it, right? Don’t say that about things you like.”

Keiji gulped.

Neither of them spoke for a minute and then Koutarou hummed.

“So… I have this friend. I’ve talked about him a bit before. My pilot friend?”

Keiji neither denied nor acknowledged him.

“He’s different from my other friends. We didn’t grow up together. We got introduced about… oh…” He narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips. “I guess about four years ago? Maybe? But anyway, this guy… he’s _really_ into videogames.”

Keiji huffed, but Koutarou raised a hand before he could say anything.

“No, I mean he’s _really_ into videogames. I’m not talking casual gaming. I’m talking _hardcore_ gaming.”

“Hm.”

“He told me when he was a kid, he wouldn’t even leave the house. His only friends were friends he met through online gaming. He didn’t do sports. He wasn’t a part of any clubs. He didn’t date. He didn’t- seriously- he didn’t _leave his house_. _Ever_.” Koutarou leaned his elbows on his knees and kept his gaze on Keiji. “His parents thought he was a recluse. A hermit. They used to try and force him to go outside. They were big jerks, I guess. Because they used to tell him stuff like, _stop wasting your life on these stupid games_ and that sorta stuff, you know? Typical disapproving family that hates how you’ve decided to live your life.”

Keiji’s chest tightened, not daring to admit that he knew exactly, _exactly_ , what he was talking about.

“He also used to get bullied,” Koutarou went on. “He wasn’t interested in making friends so people thought he was a weirdo and would avoid him or bully him. He didn’t really give a shit though. He’s got that kinda attitude, you know?” He grinned. “He’s a fucking riot, honestly. He just does whatever he wants and tells everyone to fuck themselves if they don’t like it.”

He stood and moved to the couch at Keiji’s feet.

“Anyway, eventually he graduated and his parents kicked him out. So he did the thing that most young guys do when they get thrust out into the world with zero job skills and an extreme aversion to the idea of customer service.” He shrugged. “He joined the military.”

Keiji hugged his knees silently.

“The Air Force, to be exact. One of his favorite games when he was a kid was _Ace Combat_  I guess and that was basically how he decided.” Koutarou laughed. “But anyway, after he got discharged, he became a pilot for a while but got bored of that and decided that instead of having a _real job_ , he would get back into playing videogames.”

Keiji watched him, lost on where the story could possibly go. How it could _possibly_ be relevant.

“His parents were pissed. I guess they were sorta, kinda, a little bit proud when he joined the military and they always bragged about how their son was a rich, successful airline pilot. But he just quit and went back to staying home and playing videogames.”

“Bokuto why—”

Koutarou reached out and placed a hand on top of his knees. “Everyone thought he was stupid and lazy and reclusive and was just throwing his life away to be a gross, friendless hermit again. But then guess what?” He smiled. “Two years ago he won two million dollars at the Rocket League Championship Series.”

Keiji blinked. “He… what?”

“Two million bucks! Well, he had two partners, so it was more like… uhh… what’s two mil split three ways?” He tapped Keiji’s knee momentarily before shrugging. “Anyway! It’s a lot of money. He also streams and gets money that way too. He _literally_ made a career out of playing games. Not only that, he makes more money than his entire family combined and he does it doing something that they used to tell him to _stop_ doing because it wouldn’t get him _anywhere_ as an adult. The thing that got him bullied as a kid has now bought him his own _airplane_ that he flies around for fun just because he can.”

Koutarou scratched the back of his head and then leaned over to grab a volume of _One Piece_ from the table. He leaned back and opened the manga, gently smoothing his fingers over the pages.

“I know it’s not the same, because maybe you don’t even want to make a living out of this kind of stuff. But there are people who do. There are people who already _are_ and are probably making _bank_ from it. This guy?” He pointed at the name under the title of the series. “Eiichiro Oda? I’ll bet he makes a ton of money! But more than that, I’ll bet he has a whole league of people who look up to him! He’s probably super respected and people send him letters telling him how much his work means to them.” A soft smile upturned the corners of his lips and he flipped to a random page. “I mean… just look at this.” He turned the book around to show him a scene of the main character delivering a punch to the face of a villain, the pages filled with harsh black lines and motion.

Keiji’s eyes slid up from the book to Koutarou’s face smiling just beyond it.

“It’s art,” he said. “It’s art and it tells a story and makes people happy. There’s not a single thing to be embarrassed about.”

Keiji gulped.

Koutarou looked at him quietly for a few seconds before closing the book and setting it on the coffee table. “Well… anyway. I’m really sorry for invading your privacy. I’ll stop buggin’ you now.” He stood and moved around the couch.

Keiji clenched his hands into fists and turned to watch him walk to the door over the back of the couch. Before he could pull his sneakers on, Keiji cleared his throat.

“Bokuto?”

Koutarou paused and looked at him.

“Can… can you get me some more water?”

A bright grin stretched over his face and he bounded back to the couch to fetch the glass from the coffee table. “Sure thing, ‘Kaashi!” He filled it in the kitchen and brought it back to him. “Anything else you need?”

Keiji didn’t respond as he drank the water slowly. His eyes slid over the volume of manga. He lowered the glass of water and croaked,

“ _One Piece_ is my favorite…”

Koutarou threw himself onto the couch at Keiji’s feet once more, eye wide.

“It’s so good!” he exclaimed. “I’ve been reading it all night! I haven’t slept for a single minute yet! Like, I’ve never read manga before, so it took me a while to get used to how it’s supposed to be read, you know? Like… the right to left and the order of the panels and how things might be in the foreground but are actually supposed to be read like third in order or something… it was kind of confusing at first but holy crap! It’s so good!”

“How far did you get?”

Koutarou leapt to his feet again and ran to the bookshelf. He found a volume and carried it back to him. “Here,” he said. “I was about to finish this one when you woke up. Luffy and the others are fighting the fishmen and Luffy’s feet were stuck underwater and that one guy was holding his head above water and then Sanji freed him and he,” Koutarou paused to laugh, “he like _rocketed_ out of the water,  _and when he threw Zoro?_  Man I laughed so hard. I wish I was all stretchy like rubber!”

Keiji stifled a smile. “Do you have a favorite character so far?”

Koutarou hummed, leaning back on the couch and flipping through the pages. “Not sure yet. Zoro is _awesome_ and manly. Luffy is _hilarious_. Nami and Sanji both have some serious backstories! I definitely cried for both of them, not even lying. Look at my eye,” he pointed at his wide, bloodshot eye. “See? Totally cried.”

Keiji couldn’t stop a snort. “I thought you said you've been up all night? How do I know that redness isn’t just from exhaustion?”

“Oh true. Damn.” Koutarou grinned. “What about you? Who is your favorite? Or is it someone I haven’t met yet?”

He hesitated. “My favorite... is Usopp.”

Koutarou seemed surprised by the admission. “Usopp? Really? That’s… unexpected.”

“Why?”

“I dunno… for some reason he just didn’t strike me as your type?”

Keiji rolled his eyes, lips twitching. “My _type_?”

“Yeah! I mean… he’s so goofy.”

Keiji hummed and leaned his head on the back of the couch. He closed his eyes and mumbled, “I like him _because_ he’s goofy. He’s down to Earth… everyone feels comfortable around him. And I like his stories.”

Koutarou didn’t speak.

Keiji rubbed his eyelids sleepily. “The way he would sit in the tree outside Kaya’s window and tell her stories to make her happy… it’s romantic.” He sighed. “And even when he’s terrified and wants to run away, he always comes back and faces his fears head on.”

He could feel sleep approaching, and was aware that he should set his half glass of water aside before he spilled it, but he couldn’t seem to find the energy to move. Which was well enough, considering that Koutarou leaned over to do it for him. He felt the gentle tug on the glass and loosened his grip, allowing it to be slipped from his hand.

A few moments of silence ticked by and Keiji was fading into unconsciousness when Koutarou finally spoke again, voice soft.

“Yeah, you’re right. Usopp is good.”

The corner of Keiji’s lips lifted.

“I hope I can learn how to be more like him.”

Keiji was asleep before he had the chance to ask what he meant by that.

* * *

 

They were all staring at him.

Keiji lifted the beer to his lips and did his best to drink smoothly, without giving away that the stares were starting to get to him.

“Drinking two nights in a row?” Tooru finally said when he lowered the glass once more. “Keiji you’ve changed.”

“You’re not hungover?” Daichi asked, leaning back in the booth and draping an arm over the backrest. “You were pretty much dead last night.”

“I threw up,” Keiji said, flinching at how cheerful the admission sounded leaving his tongue.

Silence spread across the table.

Kenma sat forward, hair falling into his face. “Something good happened.”

“No…”

“Spill,” Tooru demanded, slapping a hand down on the table.

“There’s nothing to spill,” Keiji insisted, looking over his shoulder across the virtually empty bar in search of an escape route.

A hand grabbed his left wrist and he jerked his head back to Daichi, who smirked as he latched onto him. Tooru nabbed his other wrist and Kenma folded his hands under his chin and leveled him with a flat stare.

“Spill,” he said.

“There’s nothing—”

“Hey Keiji.” Kenma tucked a lock of poorly bleached hair behind one ear. “Remember that time in seventh grade when you—”

“ _Okay stop, stop, stop, I’ll tell you_ ,” he hissed, pulling weakly at his arms. Daichi and Tooru tightened their hold and he let out a huff. “ _Okay_.” He scrunched his nose. “It’s not that big of a deal. I woke up this morning and threw up and drank water and took a nap so I don’t really feel sick anymore.”

They waited, knowing that he was withholding information.

He sighed. “Bokuto found my stash.”

Kenma’s eyebrow raised. “Your weeb stash?”

“ _I can’t be a weeb if I’m Japanese—”_

“You’re Japanese-American,” Daichi interrupted. “You might as well be white.”

“Says the guy who watched _Kimi no Na wa_ with me and fucking _cried_ ,” Keiji spat.

Daichi’s face twisted. “I _trusted_ you.”

“Well whose fault is that?”

Tooru snickered. “Daichi you _cried_?”

“Says the guy who watched _Koe no Katachi_ with me and cried.” Keiji lifted his chin.

Tooru released his wrist and crossed his arms over his chest. “Why you gotta do that? Why you gotta ruin a guy’s reputation like that?”

“You have a reputation?” Kenma asked dully.

“Of course I—”

“Your reputation was ruined that day you decided it was okay to lick that lit candle and the wax burnt off your taste buds,” Daichi said.

Tooru stared at him across the table. “Why you gotta do that?”

“Hey Keiji,” Kenma said. “Remember that time in sixth grade gym when—”

“ _Stop_ ,” Keiji begged. “It’s nothing. Bokuto found my stash and I was really pissed at first but turns out he… got really into it and so he stayed at my apartment all day and we read and watched _One Piece_ and it was nice.” He gulped. “It was nice.”

The other three stared at him for long seconds. Daichi finally released his wrist and Keiji took another drink from his beer, heart racing under their relentless attention.

“So like…” Tooru said just as the silence was beginning to get uncomfortable. “You two should bone.”

Keiji released a disgusted groan. “Shut _up._ I’m not going to have sex with him.”

“C’mon, Keiji! He’s cute, sweet, you like him, he didn’t run for the hills when he found out you’re a gross weeb—”

Keiji leaned over and punched him on the arm.

“And most importantly,” Tooru leaned out of his reach. “You haven’t gotten laid in _forever_.”

Keiji raised his glass and glared over the top of it. “Why are you so obsessed with my sex life? First of all, it’s none of your business. Second of all, what about you guys? When was the last time any of _you_ got laid?”

“Virgin ‘til I die,” Kenma said without an ounce of shame.

“I’m too _busy_ to get laid,” Tooru said, unbothered. “I have a career that takes up most of my free time, unlike you, Mister _I only work three days a week_.” He leaned over and punched Keiji’s arm.

Keiji punched him back and then all three of them turned to Daichi, who stared into his glass, swirling the liquid around quietly.

“I guess we can take solace in the fact that at least one of us gets it on the regular.” Tooru sighed and leaned his chin in the palm of his hand. “Right, Daichi?”

Daichi didn’t reply.

Keiji and Tooru exchanged a glance.

“ _Right, Daichi?_ ” Tooru pressed.

Daichi hummed and raised his glass to his mouth, eyes drifting across the bar.

Keiji, seeing the opportunity to get the attention off of him, asked, “When was the last time you and June had sex, Daichi?” He suppressed the shudder that threatened to wrack his body at the unwanted image of one of his best friends and his sister in bed.

Daichi cleared his throat and set his glass on the table. “How about we change the subject?” He smiled.

“Nah I wanna hear about the last time you gave it to Keiji’s sister,” Kenma said and Keiji kicked him under the table.

“C’mon, Keiji is right. Talking about these sorts of things… it’s kinda intrusive, you know? Let’s just—”

“I have no problem admitting how long it’s been since I’ve had sex,” Keiji interrupted. “It was about a week before I got dumped. So around a year ago.”

“And I had a one night stand with my last editor four months ago,” Tooru admitted, leaning his chin in the palm of his hand. “Ruined his marriage while I was at it. Serves him right.”

“Virgin ‘til I die.”

“We know, Kenma.”

Daichi’s expression tightened and he drummed his fingers on the table. Normally, Keiji would come to his rescue, but when Daichi’s head was on the chopping block, Keiji’s own head was safely tucked in the background, out of reach of Tooru’s and Kenma’s prying claws.

_Sorry Daichi_.

_Better you than me._

Daichi pursed his lips and looked around once more, probably searching for anything to distract the hyenas circling. Finally, he sighed and muttered,

“It’s been a while.”

“How long is a while?” Tooru asked. “You two are engaged so _a while_ could mean anything from a week to a decade.”

Daichi rubbed his eyes. “Longer than a week.”

“But shorter than a decade?”

“Obviously.”

“Give us a number,” Kenma suggested.

Daichi cringed, nose scrunching and forehead wrinkling. He scratched the back of his head. “Uhh… three.”

“Three weeks?” Tooru said.

“No…”

“Three months then?” Keiji said.

Daichi didn’t answer.

After a long, tense moment of silence, Kenma whispered, “ _Holy shit._ ”

Tooru slapped his palms down on the table and leaned forward. “ _Three years?_ ” he hissed. “ _Years? Daichi are you fucking kidding me?_ ”

“How is that possible?” Kenma scowled.

“Are we talking just _sex_ , or like… _everything_ sexual?” Tooru said. “Like blow jobs and handies?”

“Everything.” Daichi downed the rest of his drink. “Okay. We talked about it. Can we move on now?”

“I think we need to talk about it more,” Keiji admitted.

The others nodded and Daichi groaned.

“And here I was giving Keiji a hard time about needing to get laid…” Tooru mumbled. “Maybe it’s been you all along that I should have been harassing…”

“It’s not that big of a deal,” Daichi insisted. “We’re both pretty busy so you know…”

“You’re telling me that you haven’t found one hour of free time in _three years_ to have sex with your fiancée?” Kenma said, voice flat.

“Is there something wrong with waiting for marriage?”

“Don’t act like you’ve never done it,” Tooru scoffed. “We all remember prom.”

“Despite trying my best to erase that memory from existence,” Keiji grumbled and grabbed the pitcher of beer in the center of the table. He filled his, and then Daichi’s, glass and they both took a drink.

Daichi sighed again and leaned back in the booth. “It’s really not that big of a scandal. June's just… not interested. So we don’t do it.”

“Not interested,” Kenma repeated. “Even though… you’re engaged. To be married. Like, as a couple. Romantically. For the rest of your life. Man and wife.”

“Thank you for explaining to me what marriage is, Kenma,” Daichi said, voice dull. “I’m glad I got that cleared up before saying my vows.”

“I don’t get it,” Kenma said.

“You don’t need to get it.” Daichi gulped down the rest of his beer. “Let’s just drop it okay? It’s not a big deal. So we don’t have sex. That’s fine. I don’t even care.”

Keiji and Tooru exchanged a look and then Keiji slowly filled Daichi’s glass once more.

“There’s more to a relationship than sex,” Daichi went on, taking a long drink. He lowered the glass and glared at the others. “I don’t even _want_ to get laid that much.”

Five beers later, Daichi slumped over the table and groaned into the wood.

“ _God I wanna get laid so bad._ ”

“There he is,” Tooru said tenderly and leaned across to pat his friend’s back. “And it only took seven beers to unlock the truth.”

Keiji folded his arms on the table and scrutinized Daichi quietly. His forehead was pressed to the wood, short black hair a mess from where he constantly ran his fingers through it as the group relentlessly drilled him. The skin of the back of his neck was flushed from the alcohol and when he rolled his head to the side, eyes closed, Keiji could see that his cheeks and nose were equally as pink. His brow furrowed and he groaned again, bottom lip worrying between his teeth.

And it was oddly unnerving. Keiji gulped. It was strange to see the designated- albeit reluctant- responsible one in the group in such a frazzled state of despair, relying on the three totally unqualified others to care for him.

“It’s okay, Daichi,” Tooru said, patting his head. “We can help you. Maybe you’re just really bad at sex?”

Daichi groaned again, louder.

“I’m _great_ at sex,” he muttered. “It’s not me. It’s June.”

“June sucks at sex?” Kenma asked and Keiji shuddered.

Daichi slowly sat up and leaned his cheek on his fist, staring down at his glass.

“Ya know… we’ve talked about it before.”

“About what?” Keiji asked, not sure if he wanted to know the answer to the question.

“This. The sex thing. I thought… maybe she was cheating on me or something. Didn’t want to have sex with me even though we’re together, you know. It’s suspicious, right? But… it’s not even that. She’s just… not interested. In that.”

The table fell silent.

Daichi drew squiggles in the condensation on his empty glass. “And I was like, yeah okay that’s fine. It _is_ fine. I don’t wanna have sex with someone who doesn’t wanna have sex with me, you know? It’s only fun if everyone is into it.”

“Consent is _sexy_!” Tooru agreed with a yelping cheer, lifting his beer high above his head.

Keiji’s nose scrunched. Oh _good_. So Daichi _wasn’t_ the only drunk one at the table.

“Not just consent, though.” Daichi straightened, expression growing fierce. “Consenting… like duh that just goes without sayin’, you know? I mean… like… fun. Everyone should be having _fun_. It’s not enough to just… be okay with it.” He glared at the table. “She said… June said… that we can do it. And she’d… be _okay_ with it. It wouldn’t _bother_ her. But man I don’t fuckin’ want that? Shit… I’d _be okay_ with Bud Light.” He shoved a finger accusingly at the now empty pitcher in the center of the table. “But _that’s not what I fucking ordered._ And if I got it instead of the Irish Death I actually _wanted_ , then maybe I would drink it anyway but when I went for a refill I’d still tell the bartender, _hey you gave me Bud Light but I wanted Irish Death._ ”

“Are we still talking about sex?” Kenma asked, tugging on the strings of his hoodie. “Is June the Bud Light?”

“ _I’m the Bud Light_.” Daichi thrust his hands through his hair. “Sex with me is just Bud Light and whatever… whatever it is that she really _wants_ is Irish Death, but how can Bud Light give someone Irish Death? It can’t. And I apparently can’t give June sex that she actually wants so even though she said she’d _be okay with it_ , I’ve gone without getting laid for three years because I don’t want to have sex with someone who’s not totally, completely, wholly _into it_.”

Keiji slid his half full glass of beer over to him and Daichi drank it thankfully. When he set the glass down he sighed and rubbed his eyes.

“I don’t wanna talk about this anymore,” he said.

The table fell silent. Keiji wracked his mind for something, anything, to say to lighten the mood but as the person usually bringing the mood _down_ … he had nothing. Luckily, Kenma was there to pick up the slack.

“So like… what if buttholes had a full set of teeth?”

Tooru turned to him. “Why you gotta do that?”

“It’s a good question.”

“It’s an awful question and now I’m always going to have the lingering image of assholes with chompers and my life is ruined. Ruined, I tell you.”

“But like… would you need to get a whole different dentist for your butthole teeth or do you think your regular dentist would work? What would the dentistry chair for butthole dentistry look like? Would there be a market for butthole braces? How long would you have to go to school for a degree in butthole orthodontics? How much would a butthole orthodontist get paid?”

“I literally want to murder you right now.”

“I’m gonna get more beer,” Keiji grabbed the pitcher and slid out of the booth. He paused and looked back to Daichi, who looked disturbed but grateful at the change of subject. “Daichi,” he said, drawing the other man’s attention.

Daichi lifted his eyebrows in question.

Keiji pointed at the empty pitcher. “You’re Irish Death.”

Daichi blinked.

A flush of embarrassment filled Keiji’s chest and he turned and headed across the bar.

How cheesy.

Did he think that was a cool line?

He should leave the charm to—

His cell phone rang in his pocket and he dug it out. Koutarou’s name blinked on the screen and he sat on a stool at the counter and answered the call.

“Hello?”

“ _Akaashi! How are you?_ ”

“I’m alright…” Keiji set the empty pitcher on the counter in front of him, eyeing the bartender as he took orders at the other end of the bar. “How are you?”

“ _Great! So I need a favor! Or… actually… I guess I don’t need it. But I’d like it, if that makes sense? Like, I’ll survive if I don’t get the favor so don’t think that you have to say yes or something. It’s not a problem of life or death I swear.”_

“Somehow I don’t believe you,” Keiji said warily.

Koutarou laughed. “ _I promise it’s not a huge thing! Just, you know how you invited me and Tetsu to that party last night? Well, I have a thing this Saturday and the problem is that we want people to show up for it but we don’t really know a lot of people to invite who would actually come so I was wondering if you and your friends could show up?”_

Keiji traced the shapes of the wood grain on the counter and hummed. “What kind of thing is it?”

“ _A… uh… a celebration!_ ”

“I don’t trust you.”

“ _Ouch!_ ” Koutarou laughed again. “ _Understandable though. Uhm… It’s seriously just like… a party. I swear. There’s gonna be alcohol and food and games and stuff. Maybe a bonfire!”_

Keiji drummed his fingers. “Sounds cultish.”

“ _BYOV!_ ”

“Huh?”

“ _Bring your own virgin!_ ”

Keiji snorted and leaned the heel of his hand against his forehead, pinching his lips together to keep his amusement at bay.

“Please tell me it’s not anything creepy and cultish.”

“ _It’s not creepy or cultish!_ ”

“Promise?”

“ _Pinky promise!_ ”

“How can you pinky promise over the phone?”

“ _I’m doing it._ ”

“How?”

“ _I’m just like… pretending that you’re here and pinky promising the air. You do it too, Akaashi._ ”

“I’m not pinky promising the air.”

“ _Wait, make sure you’re pointed in my direction. I’m north. Like, pretty much as north as you can get in town. Where are you?”_

Keiji pressed his hand over his eyes. “South.”

“ _Okay! So I’ll face south and you face north and then let’s air pinky promise!_ ”

“Bokuto…”

“ _I’m facing south! Waitin’ on you, now!”_

Keiji lowered his hand, face warm. He glanced around the bar, hesitated, and then turned in his stool to face the jukebox across the room.

“Okay… I’m north…”

“ _Now pinky promise! Ready? One… two…”_

Keiji chewed on his bottom lip, cheeks hot with mortification as he lifted his hand and curled his pinky.

“ _Three! Pinky promise!”_

Keiji shook his hand up and down and then quickly rotated in his stool once more, pressing his trembling hand over his cheek, lips twitching as he struggled not to smile.

“ _Did you do it?_ ” Koutarou asked.

“Yes.” He covered his eyes. “For some reason.”

Koutarou laughed again and the sound finally broke Keiji’s desperate defenses and he felt the smile stretch his mouth wide.

“ _So there! You have my promise that it’s nothing creepy or cultish. Will you come?”_

Keiji stared down at the counter. “Okay.”

“ _Awesome! I’ll text you the details.”_

“Okay… you promise it’s nothing weird?”

“ _I promise it’s not cultish!_ ”

Keiji frowned. “But—”

“ _Okay gotta go, Akaashi, I’ll see you on Saturday. Bye!”_

The call ended and Keiji stared down at the screen of his phone, a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach filling him with instant regret.

It was definitely going to be something weird.

* * *

 

“So like…” Daichi glanced around, gently swirling the red Solo cup in his hand. “This is a funeral, right?”

Keiji pressed a hand over his eyes.

“I’m so sorry.”

“Cmon, Keiji,” Tooru slapped his shoulder and they shared a glare. “Warn me before you drag me to a funeral! You know I’ve been waiting for an opportunity to wear that nice ass Valentino suit I won at that raffle at the fair last year.”

“Hey, here’s an idea,” Keiji snapped. “Wear it to one of your fucking book signings? Why is it my responsibility to invite you to a fancy function just so you can show off a stupid suit?

“I can’t wear it to a book signing because that would ruin the illusion of me being a casual, laid back, genius hobby writer instead of the controlling, perfectionist, stress landfill that I actually am!”

“Wow I don’t care.”

Kenma lifted his cup to his lips and drank. When he lowered it again, he shrugged. “At least there’s an open bar.”

“Alright, who fucking died?”

The group turned towards June as she approached. She crossed her arms over her chest and stood next to Daichi.

“I thought this was a party?”

“So did we,” Tooru said. “Keiji, would you care to explain?”

Keiji sighed. “Don’t ask me. He said it wouldn’t be anything creepy… but who knows with him?”

“Maybe it is a party,” Kenma offered. “Like, maybe someone died that they don’t like. So they’re celebrating.”

June nodded, as if the explanation was anywhere near acceptable or a thing that sane people actually did.

“Some people like to think of funerals as celebrations of life,” Daichi said. “So maybe, even though this person is dead, Koutarou and Tetsurou don’t want to have a formal, sad ceremony?”

The group hummed thoughtfully.

“Is nobody gonna say it?” Issei walked up and draped his arms over June’s shoulders. Everyone looked at him but didn’t reply. He cocked a thick eyebrow and pointed across the grassy park at which they were all told to gather.

Everyone followed his point to where the small stage was erected, upon which a pedestal displayed a small, white casket.

“That’s a baby casket, ain’t it?”

No one spoke, though Daichi coughed uncomfortably into his fist.

A long minute stretched by and Kenma lifted his cup to his lips and muttered, “But hey, open bar.”

“So fucking awkward,” June said with a tired breath.

“Okay okay!”

Everyone faced the voice as Tetsurou ran up to them, face red. He had a small stack of papers in his hands and when he reached the group, he started handing them out among them.

“Hey, hi, thanks for coming. We’re gonna get started. Here are your programs. How about you all come find a seat and we can get right into it?”

Daichi stared down at the program handed to him. It was printed cheaply on plain white computer paper and was folded sloppily in thirds. On the front, the words, “In Loving Memory” were printed above an image of a man’s body in a pair of swim trunks, kneeling on a beach. His head was buried in the sand, a bendy straw protruding from the ground a few inches away, and on his sunburned back were thick white lines in the shape of a penis. Underneath the picture, a name was italicized, each letter a different color.

_Koushi Sugawara_

Daichi lifted his eyes wearily.

“Come, come!” Tetsurou pushed at Kenma’s shoulders, leading him towards the folding chairs set up in messy rows in front of the stage. “We’re a little behind schedule so let’s hurry up.”

The others exchanged a look and followed. They took their seats, Daichi sitting in the front row between Keiji and Tooru. Koutarou jumped onto the stage and went to the microphone stand, though the group was small enough that it was definitely overkill to use it.

“Welcome!” he said, breathless. He panted and wiped the sweat from his brow with the short sleeve of his t-shirt. “I’m so glad you could all come and share this day with us. We are here to remember a very important person. A good friend. Koushi Sugawara.”

Tetsurou joined him, glancing around nervously, tugging at his collar.

“I know none of you know Koushi,” Koutarou went on. “Thank you for coming anyway.”

Motion to the right drew Daichi’s and Tooru’s attention. A broad shouldered, black haired man sunk into the chair on Tooru’s other side. He looked to them and smiled. There was a thick, jagged, white scar crossing over the right side of his lips and traveling down his chin.

“Can I see that?” he whispered, pointing at the program in Tooru’s hands.

Tooru slowly handed it to him, staring at him with wide eyes. The man took the program with a soft _thank you_ , and peered down at it. He snorted at the sight of the image on the front and opened it, corners of his green eyes crinkling.

Tooru glanced at Daichi and they shared a confused stare before Koutarou’s voice drew their attention back to the stage.

“Koushi was a man of adventure. You couldn’t keep him in one place for long. Unfortunately, this passion for exploration, this lust for the unknown… was eventually what brutally killed him. On one hand, we are horrified to see our good friend, our _brother_ , pass, especially in such a gruesome way. But on the other hand,” Koutarou reached out and patted the shining white casket. “I’m happy that the dismemberment and consumption of his body allowed us to save money by stuffing what was left of him inside a smaller, much cheaper casket.”

“Oh my god,” Tooru muttered.

Tetsurou turned away but everyone saw and heard his snort.

Keiji sighed and Daichi tried not to smile at the ridiculousness of the situation.

Koutarou struggled to keep the grin from his face as he turned to the other man.

“Tetsu, would you like to say a few words?”

Tetsurou cleared his throat and took the offered microphone.

“Of course. Thank you, Bo.” He stared out over the small audience and walked slowly across the stage, stopping next to the coffin and placing a gentle hand atop it. “Koushi… was more than a friend. He was like a brother to me. But even more than that," he squeezed his hand into a fist, "he was an _enemy_. An enemy I am proud to have outlived. I’ll finally be able to rest easy knowing that all the money I owe him will stay comfortably in my pocket and out of his grimy, selfish, shitty hands.”

Daichi hid his smile behind his fingers.

“I’ll never forget that time,” Tetsurou continued, adopting a sad, fond expression as he stared down at the casket. “Koushi’s birthday, 2014… everyone said he couldn’t do it. They didn’t believe in him. Called him a fool. But he showed us…” He lifted his head, a single tear rolling down his cheek. “A forty-eight ounce bowl… over twelve different peppers from all over the world, sixteen ounces of bhut jolokia… and only thirty minutes…” Tetsurou bit down on his fist. “ _By god that bastard ate the entire thing._ He proved us all wrong that day. _And_ he got his picture on the wall of that ThaiMex restaurant down in Florida as proof of his heroics. The man was an _icon_!”

Koutarou cheered.

“He pet that giraffe even though he was told not to!” Tetsurou’s voice rose. “He wrestled that twelve foot long crocodile over a piece of fried chicken! He is the only person I know who has totaled a car on six of the seven continents. The only one who could lead a flashmob even with two broken legs and an entire army of neo-Nazis chasing him! _The man was a fucking hero!”_

“ _Amen!_ ” Koutarou lifted his hands in the air.

The man sitting beside Tooru huffed out a soft laugh.

Tetsurou passed the microphone back to Koutarou and he stood at center stage.

“Now,” he said. “I’ll pay tribute to our brother by singing his favorite song.”

He cleared his throat and Tetsurou stood beyond his shoulder, eyes bright, fist clenched at his mouth.

Koutarou held the microphone to his lips and then sang in a low voice,

_“Booty, booty, booty, booty, rockin' everywhere…”_

Tetsurou couldn’t hold in his choking laugh and he quickly turned away.

_“Booty, booty, booty, booty, rockin' everywhere…”_

Koutarou wore a morose expression, brows furrowed, lone eye closed. He continued to sing the song with laughable seriousness while Tetsurou stood behind him, shoulders raised to his ears and trembling with his silent laughter.

_“I found you, Ms. New Booty,_

_Get it together and bring it back to me.”_ Koutarou started to sway to the slow tempo of his singing.

_“Hit the playas club for about a month or two,_

_Put his hand on it then see what he do._

_Get it ripe, get it right, get it tight…”_

Tooru tapped Daichi’s knee and he glanced at him. Tooru pointed across the park and Daichi’s eyes followed until he spotted what had caught his attention.

A man sprinted towards them from the direction of the parking lot.

Koutarou let out a small shriek and Daichi turned back to the stage, seeing that the two buffoons had also noticed the new arrival.

Tetsurou hung onto Koutarou’s arm and they stared at the man running towards them, giggling like children.

“Oh-oh my god!” Koutarou announced, words interrupted by hopeless giggles. “What’s this? Is it… a miracle?”

Tetsurou patted Koutarou’s shoulder excitedly, squealing.

“Keep singing,” he insisted, voice squeaking.

_“Booty, booty, booty, booty, rockin' everywhere…”_

The man drew nearer and Koutarou and Tetsurou both shouted with glee and giggling terror as Koutarou threw the microphone towards the newcomer and they both bolted off of the stage.

The man was unfazed by the projectile and continued on his path towards the others. He didn’t slow as he zoomed past the front row of the small audience and then made a flying leap at the pair.

Koutarou managed to shriek out a high pitched, “ _I’m sorry!_ ” before the man body slammed into him, sending him crashing to the ground.

Tetsurou screeched and turned to flee but the man’s hand flashed out and wrapped around his ankle. He yanked up and back and Tetsurou tumbled to the grass on his face.

Daichi and the others watched the scene quietly. The man managed to climb up over Koutarou’s body and got both of his legs around his neck, thighs squeezing, as he wrestled Tetsurou into a headlock.

“What the fuck,” Tooru whispered.

The stranger sitting in the seat on the other side of him stood, chuckling.

“Ignore them,” he said and the group faced him. “Which one of you is… uhm… Kaashi?”

Daichi glanced to Keiji. He gulped and stood. “I’m Keiji Akaashi.”

The man smiled and offered his hand. “I’m Hajime. Koutarou spoke briefly about you on the phone this morning. Thanks for putting up with… well… _this_ ,” he gestured at the stage and casket.

Keiji shook his hand. “It’s nothing.”

“Does anyone want food?” Hajime asked, green eyes drifting among the rest of the group as they climbed to their feet. “It's not much. But I ordered a stack of pizzas.” He pointed at a long table erected next to the open bar where the bartender sat, drinking.

Kenma and Issei headed immediately for the pizza but June crossed her arms and glared at Hajime.

“Did anyone die or not?”

“Unfortunately no.”

“Bet you’re glad you didn’t wear that Valentino suit now, huh Tooru?” Kenma called over his shoulder.

“Shut up,” Tooru said, but it lacked bite.

Daichi glanced at him, eyebrow cocked. He stared quietly at Hajime, nervously straightening the same lock of hair on his forehead over and over again.

Daichi smirked. He threw an arm around his shoulders, forcing him to stoop, and dragged him towards the bar.

“C’mon, Tooru. Let’s get something to drink, yeah?” Once they were far enough away from the others, Daichi muttered, “Oh man you are _so_ obvious.”

He removed his arm from around him and Tooru straightened, eyes wide.

“Holy shit he’s _hot_ ,” he said, almost breathless. “Did you _see_ him?”

“I saw him.”

“Daichi his _arms_.”

“Yes.”

“Oh my _god_. I’ve never felt gayer in my life than I do right now.”

“Hmm? What about when you went to that _Thunder Down Under_ show and got grinded on?”

“Daichi, I’ve had sex with a man and this is hands down the _gayest_ I’ve ever felt in my whole entire gay life.”

“Wow.”

They stopped at the bar and Daichi ordered them two drinks.

“So,” he said, watching as Tooru glanced over his shoulder to where Hajime and Keiji spoke. “Talk to him?”

“What am I supposed to say?”

“I don’t know. Make small talk? Tell him you’re an author.”

Tooru huffed. “Daichi, I can’t just flat out say _I’m an author_. That sounds like I’m bragging.”

“You’re always bragging. So what? You’ve got things to brag about.” The bartender passed him a glass and he drank slowly from it.

“I have things to brag about?” A shy expression crossed Tooru’s face and Daichi rolled his eyes.

“Oh you don’t need to go fishing for compliments with me. You know I give them up for free.”

Tooru chuckled and took the drink that was offered him.

They tossed a few dollars onto the counter as a tip and turned back to the scattered group.

“The first step is introducing myself,” Tooru said. “What did he say his name was? Hajime?” He sighed wistfully. “I’m gonna have his babies.”

“You know somethin’ Tooru?” Daichi reached out and slapped his back. “I really admire your can-do attitude.”

“I don’t know if you’re being sarcastic or not.”

“And you never will.”

“So you _were_.”

Daichi grinned. “Look, I totally support you in your mission to seduce this guy but just keep in mind who he’s friends with. He might seem normal right now but…”

Their eyes drifted to the trio still duking it out several yards away. Tetsurou and Koutarou had both managed to get out of their headlocks and all three men were on their feet once more. The newcomer grabbed one of the folding chairs and hurled it at Tetsurou, who took the brunt of the missile to his back with a comically high pitched wail. Koutarou darted in and delivered a punch to the man’s kidney and then ran when he whirled and gave chase.

“Well anyway,” Daichi patted Tooru’s shoulder. “Just… don’t get your hopes up _too_ high.”

“Please let him be sane,” Tooru muttered into his cup.

Keiji waved them over and they headed in his direction.

“And this is Tooru and Daichi,” he said as they joined them.

Tooru offered his hand. “Tooru Oikawa.”

Hajime shook his hand with a smile. “Hajime Iwaizumi, nice to meet you.”

Tooru went back to correcting that same lock of hair when they separated.

“Daichi Sawamura,” Daichi said.

Hajime’s eyes widened the instant they turned to him. He hesitated, staring at Daichi silently for a long moment.

Daichi cocked an eyebrow.

Hajime cleared his throat and shook Daichi’s hand.

“Nice to meet you,” he said, voice suddenly tired. He let out a sigh and released Daichi’s hand just to run his fingers through his short hair, eyes drifting to his friends.

Daichi and Keiji exchanged a glance.

“Daichi, pizza,” Kenma called. “There’s Hawaiian.”

“Oh yeah?” Daichi turned to him. “Let me get a slice of that.” He went to the table and set his drink down to grab a paper plate. Kenma chewed on a slice of cheese pizza at his side.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, mouth full.

Daichi hummed and opened one of the pizza boxes. “Nothing…” he hesitated. “Just… that Hajime guy acted kinda weird when he looked at me.”

“Weird how?”

“I don’t know? Maybe I’m just imagining—”

His words were cut short when a body suddenly slammed down onto the table to his right. Daichi stared at Koutarou with wide eyes as he let out a groan, followed by a shriek when a second body leapt on top of him. A glint of silver caught Daichi’s eye as a massive combat knife swung down and embedded in the table just to the left of Koutarou’s head.

He screamed, “No fair!” and writhed beneath his friend, reaching up to tug on the back of his black, long-sleeved shirt. “You don’t bring a knife to a fist fight!”

“You do if you want to win!” the other man cackled, his voice somehow both sweet and wild all at once. Koutarou tugged again on his shirt and four chains slipped out from under his collar, silver dog tags clinking together. He ripped the knife up out of the table, shards of splintered wood coming with it, and dragged his arm back to swing again, but a hand grabbed his wrist and yanked. Tetsurou pulled him up and off of Koutarou, hoisting him in the air.

He yelped in complaint, kicking his legs, and Daichi finally got a glimpse of his face.

The first thing he noticed was the scar. Jagged and young, the puckered scar tissue stretched over his cheeks and the bridge of his nose from ear to ear. The sight of it made Daichi’s breath catch in his throat, his heart strain. It was such an overpowering feature that he barely had the time to notice anything else about his face. Only a pair of laughing brown eyes and a mouth opened wide.

And then Tetsurou slammed him down into the grass and Koutarou scampered over to wrench the knife out of his hand. He ran away with the weapon, laughing triumphantly, and the man bucked Tetsurou off and followed.

Daichi watched them go momentarily. Keiji, catching sight of Koutarou, chased after him, calling out, “Bokuto! Don’t run with knives please!”

“Daichi?”

He jerked his head to Kenma, who cocked an eyebrow and slowly took another bite of his pizza slice.

Daichi chuckled and ran a hand through his hair. “Uh, that was interesting.”

“They’re all insane.”

“Yeah, I think you’re right.”

He found the Hawaiian pizza and placed a slice on his plate.

Kenma hummed and he looked at him again.

“I dunno,” he said, placing his crust on Daichi’s plate. “I think there’s something comforting about it.”

“About what?” Daichi bit into his slice, stifling a grimace at the taste of the overpowering tomato sauce.

“You know,” Kenma grabbed Daichi’s drink and sipped it. “Being around people with a lot of energy like that, it’s like it takes the pressure off.” He made a face and set the cup down again. “Us… our group, we’ve kinda got low energy, you know? Even though we're all perfectly happy doing nothing, there’s still pressure to do _something_ when we're together _._ And none of us likes to be the person to make the suggestion.” He turned and stared across the park to where the loud trio had made it to the stage and were running circles around the small casket. “I feel like I’d never have to make any decisions with those guys at the wheel.”

Daichi snorted and took a drink of his alcohol. “That’s kind of a surprise,” he said, setting his paper plate down on the table. “At least, coming from you. I figured you’d hate being around the type of person with any sort of energy whatsoever.”

“You’ve got energy sometimes,” Kenma pointed out.

“I’ve got energy a lot of the time.”

“Not around us.”

“You’re tiring.”

“I know right?”

Daichi laughed.

“But nah,” Kenma leaned against the table. “As someone with no energy, it’s nice to be around people with energy. It’s easier to be pulled along than expected to lead the way, after all.”

Daichi hummed and turned. He glanced to the stage. The man with the scar currently had the small casket completely encasing his head and Tetsurou swung the microphone stand at his body, each _whack_ resulting in swinging arms and uproarious laughter.

“I don’t know,” Daichi said, suddenly exhausted. “I think there is such a thing as _too much_ energy.”

“Can’t argue with that,” Kenma sighed.

They were silent for a moment and then he said, “I can feel the Toorumones from here.”

“He’s really obvious, isn’t he?” Daichi chuckled and glanced at Tooru, who was still talking to Hajime, every other second reaching up to fix that same damn lock of hair. At this rate, he was going to be bald by the end of the night.

“Oh, look,” Kenma said. “June is going to go save him.”

They watched as June walked in Tooru’s direction, a drink in her hand.

Daichi and Kenma didn’t speak for a long second.

“But then who will save Tooru from June, I wonder?” Kenma tapped his chin.

June reached them and instantly started talking, reaching out to shake Hajime’s hand.

“I guess that’ll be me,” Daichi sighed.

“I’ll watch.” Kenma kept in time with him as they headed towards the others.

“Not help?”

“I’ll watch,” he repeated. “And laugh.”

“Hm.”

As they drew near, June’s voice came into earshot.

“I dunno, it’s better than my uncle’s funeral, at least. So far. Issei still has time to drink too much and pee on something he shouldn’t pee on.” She took a sip from her cup and Daichi stood at her side, pressing a hand to the small of her back. “But anyway,” she went on, eyes sliding down Hajime’s body. “How’d you lose your leg?”

Daichi straightened in surprise, following her gaze to Hajime’s left leg.

Hajime chuckled. “Good eye.”

“Huh?” Tooru squeaked.

Hajime leaned over and tugged his jeans up over his boot, revealing the silver gleam of metal.

“Lost it in Afghanistan,” Hajime said and dropped the fabric over it again. “IED.”

“You hide it well,” June mused, eyeing him over the rim of her cup.

He smiled ruefully. “Nothing to hide.”

Daichi glanced over at Tooru, whose mouth was gaping open, eyes still centered on the man’s metal ankle, now out of view.

“People don’t usually notice until they actually see it,” Hajime said, quirking one brow at June.

“Physical therapist,” she said.

“Can you believe it?” Issei appeared and draped himself over June’s shoulders, resting his chin on the top of her head. “This frigid fish is a _therapist_.”

Hajime let out a laugh. “Well physical therapists don’t really have to be warm. My therapist back in the army was a mean old bastard who just yelled at me until I could walk again.” He shrugged. “I mean hey, it worked like a charm, so I’m not complaining.”

Issei hummed and moved to his sister’s side. “So, Hajime, right? Who is your friend? The one who apparently _isn’t_ dead?”

“Yet,” Kenma murmured and Daichi glanced towards the stage, where the rowdy trio was still fighting.

Hajime chuckled nervously, eyes sliding to Daichi and then away. “I guess he should introduce himself, huh?” He turned and called out, “Koushi! Come meet people!”

Daichi watched as Koutarou gave the man in question a rough shove and he plunged off of the stage, casket still around his head, and crashed to the grass. He rolled to his knees with a groan and finally tossed the casket aside, eyes squeezed shut as he rubbed his temples and climbed unsteadily to his feet. He found Hajime, looking dazed, and walked towards them.

Keiji joined the group, standing at Issei’s side. He had confiscated the knife and had it clutched in his right hand.

“Koushi, this is Keiji,” Hajime pointed to him first.

Koushi walked right up to Keiji and wrapped his arms around his waist, pressing their bodies close together. Keiji’s eyes went wide and he stiffened.

“You’re ‘Kaashi,” Koushi said, voice sweet. “Thanks for taking care of our boy for us. But it would have been fine if you just let him die.”

“What was that?” Koutarou ran up to the group and hovered at Keiji’s shoulder.

“You left me to fucking die in the Amazon you piece of shit,” Koushi spat. “The least you could do is bleed to death on the side of the goddamn highway.”

“There was only one helicopter leaving that entire month and I wasn’t going to wait around just because _you_ wanted to see a fucking sloth!”

“ _What do you have against sloths?”_

“I’ve got nothing against sloths! I’ve got everything against missing the last helicopter out of hell!”

“Oh you haven’t seen hell _yet_ , shit bag.”

Hajime slapped the back of Koushi’s head and he finally released Keiji, who took a hasty step backwards, cheeks red.

"Uhm, I'm Tooru." Tooru looked uneasy as he reached out his hand.

Koushi shook it with a whistle. "Tall _and_ pretty. You a model? Have you considered modeling? I know a guy, uhh... how do you feel about being covered in pig's blood?"

" _What?_ "

“Hey,” Issei drew his attention and offered his hand. “I’m Issei. Keiji’s older brother. Also a big fan of sloths.”

Koushi grinned and shook his hand exuberantly. “Aren’t they so cute? Like, so ugly they’re cute, you know?”

“Adorable.”

Koushi turned to June next and she extended her hand. “June. Keiji’s sister.”

Koushi blew air between his lips. “Shit, what an attractive family. Your parents must be super hot. I mean proud.”

Hajime glanced at Daichi but then gestured to Kenma on his other side. “This is Kenma.”

Koushi turned to him and shook his hand.

“Hi,” Kenma said. “You’re really scary.”

“Thanks, you’re really cute.”

“Thanks.”

Hajime hesitated and then presented Daichi. “And this is Daichi.”

Koushi’s eyes slid up into Daichi’s face, hand leaving Kenma’s and swinging towards him.

Daichi moved to take it but suddenly Koushi’s eyes flew wide and his hand jerked back.

All color drained from his face and he reached quickly up towards his throat, but Hajime caught his wrist and held it. The muscles in both of their forearms bulged and strained, the veins beneath Koushi’s pale skin leaping as he struggled to pull away.

“ _Don’t_ ,” Hajime commanded.

Koushi’s chest rose and fell quickly, breath hissing through his teeth.

Daichi’s heart raced and he lowered his hand in shock, watching as Hajime twisted his body, yanking on Koushi’s arm until he tore his wide, brown eyes from Daichi’s face.

“ _Da_ —”

“ _I know_ ,” Hajime said, voice low. “I _know_.”

Koushi’s teeth clacked as he clamped them shut, lips pressing together into a thin, white line, muffling what sounded like a groan in the back of his throat.

Hajime gripped Koushi’s hip and roughly turned him before dragging him away from the group. Koushi’s legs shook and Hajime caught him around the waist when he stumbled.

Daichi gulped and wiped his sweaty palm on the thigh of his jeans. The group didn’t speak for a long moment, staring after Hajime and Koushi where they walked to the stage and Hajime gripped Koushi’s face in both of his hands and spoke fervently. Koushi squeezed his eyes shut, mouth still in that tight line, and jerked his head up and down, fingers digging in to Hajime’s biceps.

Daichi looked to Koutarou, who rubbed the back of his neck uneasily.

“Did I do something wrong?” he asked.

Koutarou glanced at him and then down. “Ah, no. Don’t… don’t worry about it.” He turned. “Hey Testicle! Shots!”

Tetsurou, who had run off to the bathroom and was just now returning, let out a cheer and he and Koutarou both bolted towards the bar.

Daichi chewed on the inside of his cheek. Don’t worry about it? How was he not supposed to worry about it when Koushi just had what looked like a nervous breakdown at the mere sight of Daichi’s face?

Kenma patted his shoulder.

“Don’t take it personally,” he said. “They’re weird, remember? Super weird.”

Daichi swallowed. “Yeah… weird.”

He subtly glanced towards Hajime and Koushi. The latter seemed to be calm again, tugging on the collar of his shirt as Hajime continued to speak to him.

Daichi decided then that it would probably be a good idea to steer clear of Koushi Sugawara.

* * *

 

As the night progressed, Daichi found himself sitting with Hajime, Koutarou, Keiji, and Issei, drinking and finishing off the rest of the god awful pizza. Koutarou was telling a painful story about his less than savory experience with Amazonian river dolphins while the others groaned and cringed.

Despite being entranced by the story, Daichi couldn’t stop his eyes from sliding in Koushi’s direction every few minutes. He was currently playing hackey sack with Tetsurou and Tooru, laughing and pointing at Tooru every time he failed to return the sack.

Daichi couldn’t get his expression out of his head. He had looked _devastated_ when they had made eye contact. What did it mean? It unnerved him to his core and put him on edge, making it impossible to pay attention or calm down.

“Don’t worry about him.”

Daichi stiffened at the voice and turned to Hajime, who watched him with a sad smile.

“Uh… sorry,” Daichi cleared his throat into his fist. “I’m just… I’m just confused.”

“He has that effect on people.”

Koutarou laughed. “Yeah! Don’t worry about it! Koushi is just… unique!” He glanced at Hajime. “By the way, was it hard to find him? I swear I told him to get on the fucking helicopter but he refused to leave.”

Hajime didn’t answer at first. He stared down into his cup and then hummed.

“It was… pretty easy to find him.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Koutarou stared at him silently and then leaned forward in his chair. “Where was he?”

Hajime didn’t reply.

“Hajime.”

He sipped his alcohol and then lowered the cup to his lap. “Lev found him…”

Koutarou’s jaw clenched. “Where?”

“… in Kaliningrad.”

Koutarou thrust to his feet. His chair fell backwards and he threw his cup to the side, alcohol spilling out across the grass.

“Koutarou,” Hajime reached for him but he jerked away.

Keiji stood and Daichi did the same, feeling tension suddenly crackle in the air.

Koutarou turned and bolted across the park. It took him two seconds to make it to where the others played and he instantly plowed into Koushi, shoulder ramming into his sternum. They crashed to the ground and Koutarou immediately sat up on Koushi’s stomach, cocking his fist back and then slamming it into his cheek with a _crack_.

Keiji, Daichi, and Hajime rushed over to the fight but none of them moved to stop it as Koushi spat blood to the grass and dodged Koutarou’s second punch.

“ _You fucking bastard!_ ” Koutarou ground out between his teeth.

“Sure,” Koushi said, voice light and cheerful. “What for?”

“What were you doing in Russia, you _fuck_?” Koutarou gripped the front of Koushi’s shirt and hauled him up off the grass.

Koushi’s left brow ticked up. “Sightseeing?”

Koutarou lifted him closer, face leaning in until their noses were nearly touching. His voice lowered as he growled, “I told you to _stay_ _away_.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t remember asking your permission to go _anywhere_.”

Koutarou didn’t reply for a few seconds, breathing ragged.

Daichi glanced at Hajime, but though the man watched them warily, he didn’t move to stop them.

“Where did you get it?” Koutarou’s voice drew Daichi’s attention back.

“Get what?” Koushi asked.

“The _scar_?”

Koushi grinned, the puckered skin of his scar wrinkling with the full motion. “What, this ol’ thing?”

“ _Where did you get it?_ ”

Koushi’s chin lifted. “I traded for it.”

Koutarou hesitated, then let out a confused, “Traded?”

"Mhm." Koushi raised his hand and wiggled his fingers. “My face... _h_ _is hand_.” He let out a barking laugh.

Koutarou’s grip on Koushi’s shirt loosened and he dipped slightly back towards the grass.

“You… didn’t.”

“I sure did.”

"Like... completely off?"

"Gone."

Koutarou didn’t respond for long, long seconds. And then suddenly he was laughing. He released Koushi and slumped over him, leaning his forehead on his collar as he laughed and laughed into his chest. Koushi’s grin softened and he carded his fingers through his wild white hair.

Keiji released a deep breath of relief and Daichi felt it in his bones. The tension fizzled out and soon Tetsurou was kicking at both of them with a shit-eating smirk.

Daichi rubbed his face and turned. “I need a drink,” he muttered under his breath.

“Mood,” Keiji replied, but didn’t follow, deciding instead to continue watching as Koutarou rolled off of Koushi and they both started ripping grass from the ground and throwing it at Tetsurou.

Daichi ordered a drink at the bar and then leaned his elbows against the counter as he waited for it to be made.

“Rowdy bunch,” the bartender said as he shook liquor together in a shaker.

“Yeah,” Daichi said. “You got that right.”

“Heavy drinkers.”

“Possibly a factor contributing to the _rowdy_ part.”

“Possibly.”

Daichi chuckled. The bartender slid his drink to him and he tipped him and took a sip. He was just about to turn and return to the others when he felt a body lean against the counter at his side.

“Rum and coke please.”

Daichi froze at the sound of the voice. He gulped and quickly took another drink, eyes shifting right. Koushi tapped the counter with his index finger, not looking at Daichi, but standing almost close enough for their shoulders to brush.

Daichi’s heart pounded and his nerves tingled, telling him to run before he got his ass kicked or stabbed or yelled at or whatever it was that Koushi planned to do with him now that he had gotten him alone.

_You’re overreacting._

_Just calm the fuck down._

The bartender gave Koushi his drink and he thanked him. He finally turned towards Daichi and Daichi slowly faced him as well, trying unsuccessfully to still his raging heart.

Koushi stared at him quietly for a moment. His bottom lip worried between his teeth as his eyes wandered over his face, scrutinizing every inch.

Then, without warning, he lifted his cup and jerked it forward.

Daichi barely had time to close his eyes before rum and coke splattered across his face and wet the front of his shirt.

He took a step backwards and released a loud gasp, setting his cup aside. He reached up and wiped the soda and liquor away with a hard flick of his wrists, mouth open.

“What the _fuck_?” he choked, fury and shock competing for control. He trembled with anger and stared at Koushi. “ _What the fuck is your problem?”_ He shook his hands and then wiped them on the front of his shirt, cursing. “Are you fucking _kidding_ me? God _damn_ it, you _jackass_!” He wiped his face again and sent a furious glare Koushi’s direction. “If you’ve got a fucking problem with me then—”

Koushi’s laughter cut him short. Daichi’s rage peaked and he wanted to punch the bastard in the mouth, but the teary-eyed glee and relief on his face gave him pause.

“Oh _thank God…_ ” Koushi wiped his eyes, fingers trembling as they coasted over his scar. He hummed with giggling laughter and reached out and took Daichi’s sticky hand in his. He shook it and smiled at him, corners of his eyes crinkling softly. “Daichi, right?”

Daichi gaped at him, astonishment momentarily pushing back his anger. “Uh… ye-yeah…”

“I’m Koushi Sugawara,” he said. “But…” he hesitated, smile wavering, eyes cooling slightly. He gulped, hand still squeezing Daichi’s tight. “Call me Suga.”

Before Daichi could reply, he released his hand, turned, and walked away.

Daichi watched him until he joined the others and received a slap to the back of the head from Hajime.

Daichi sighed and wiped his face with the sleeve of his t-shirt, deciding that yeah. He was _definitely_ going to stay far, _far_ away from Koushi Sugawara.

He lifted his cup and downed the liquor in one motion before slamming it back down on the counter, eyes sliding off again towards Koushi, who now had his combat knife back in his hand and was swinging it around animatedly while Koutarou watched with a giddy expression.

“Rowdy bunch,” the bartender said again.

He snorted. "Yeah. _That's_ the word."

It _wasn't_ the word. It was an absolute understatement. But it was the closest thing Daichi had to describe the nonsense to which he had just been victim, so it was just going to have to do for now.

"Fuckin' _r_ _owdy_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm cold  
> This chapter was hard and I want to punch it in the butt  
> RIP me
> 
> Come yell at me on [Tumblr.](http://mooifyourecows.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Next Time:  
> Noodle


End file.
